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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 3)


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Old 19-04-2012, 16:00
Biz
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Thanks for all the good wishes everyone, the break was inspirational and I think it had a healing effect on me too. We visited seven stone circles in one day Aberdeenshire has over a hundred and sixty just in that area, off the beaten track but amazing
Pleased to see you've safely returned, and glad you had company on your trip.

Brilliant write Frank - I like the use of the real people in this, which really brings home what happened. Some longer poems repay the effort of reading them and this one certainly does. A minor point - wasn't it the Carpathia that was the nearest ship to the Titanic?
Did you notice that the shape was that of the ship on its last dive to the depths?
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Old 19-04-2012, 16:41
patsylimerick
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A time to raise an old Titanic one prev. posted.

R.M.S. Titanic

In a new century not long yet in the turning
home fires of the world were happily burning.

Gestated from the deep womb of the Atlantic
was a story dramatic, tragic and romantic.

Below, in chandelier-lit salon of the sinking ship
a strewn champagne glass rolls and twinkles.

On deck, a musician's first tutored chord
in his far-off conservatoire echoes and tinkles.

Lives flash through minds, icy waters drip,
at hazard the prospects of all souls aboard.

A gambler tossing his final losing hand in
makes swerving way up a first class stair
swept mid throng of strangers, kith and kin;
no hurry, the code as males were all aware:
women and children first to fill the boats.

Such were morals and the decorum as R.M.S.
Titanic floats though holed in Atlantic iciness.
In the freezing chill and darkness She is still ...
a band plays on as to the end in duty on and
on, so bravely will, as long as they can stand.

Ladies cried loudly leaving sad husbands behind,
uncertainty of reunion afflicts each wifely mind
dark thoughts such victims think as hope sinks.
Husbands watch wives on lifeboats safe away
precious ones may live on, fervently they pray.

Mrs.Ida Straus would not depart and quit her
Mr., Isidor, they were together from the start,
she said and would not allow him to go before.

Potentates of great estate ponder the fickleness
and vicissitudes of fate. the foundering of this
great ship and state. It was by God so unthinkable,
claimed by her makers as watertight and unsinkable.

Thomas Andrews, a Belfast man had drawn the plans
and sailing's shortest straw, his ship was surely going
down as he so plainly saw, R.M.S.Titanic had not long;
lifeboats though few he would try to get full and away,
he organised their best dispatch, he himself would stay.

Well-off cabin and poor steerage passengers both on par
in growing perturbation share fears tears and desperation.
A grand White Star lady brought all down to equal station,
crew and officers' realization: no boats nor sure salvation.

Radio calls and flares had all gone off no sign yet of relief
a cleric intones a prayer to God seeking succour from belief.
Man had confronted an impenetrable wall of Nature and lost,
Her mighty berg of frozen water dominates the seas untossed.
Titanic ill luck, that curse of life, had dogged this maiden's trip,
not admitting of disaster quite unprepared for misfortune's grip.
Costs: priority of the day, ceded fewer lifeboat places than souls,
H.M.Board of Trade safety orders, were like Titanic, full of holes.

Warnings of nearby ice threat sent through confusions unreceived,
vain attempts to signal distress all misunderstood or not believed.
By irony the nearest ship of sunny name S.S.California belated came,
too late for her Captain Lord to gain credit or shed the blot of blame;
by then Titanic's Master Captain Smith was gone as was his mighty ship.

Mr.Marconi's radio telegraph had failed to help upon that fateful day,
in spite of mankind's machinations a perverse Luck had greatest sway.
Super stuff.

Thanks for all the good wishes everyone, the break was inspirational and I think it had a healing effect on me too. ..............


Brilliant write Frank - I like the use of the real people in this, which really brings home what happened. Some longer poems repay the effort of reading them and this one certainly does. A minor point - wasn't it the Carpathia that was the nearest ship to the Titanic?


What a good portrayal Sandy I have an admiration for buskers, it seems such a thankless task.
Carpathia's not a very sunny name, though.
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Old 19-04-2012, 17:30
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Hi Archiver We posted together On the Scottish trip I was accompanied by my brother and his wife. He had his laptop, but the only brief internet glimpse for me was asking him to check the thread - as a computer buff he enjoyed To Be Saved
Was incredibly coincidental that. I'd almost dare say spooky. Pleased to know your brother enjoyed my rhyme too. You had a good break and are all refreshed and full of new ideas no doubt. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on the thread as usual.

I've read bits of that thread, and must admit I think there will be nothing, but I like the idea of DMT to ease the passing.

Sorry to hear you're upset - it must be something serious.

I see your final wondering has been settled.
Indeed it has. and my upset is that which comes from immense happiness. Sometimes triggered by a musical phrase or verse, but today, 'mere' words got me, twice. I'm fine though. Thanks
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Old 19-04-2012, 18:12
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Indeed it has. and my upset is that which comes from immense happiness. Sometimes triggered by a musical phrase or verse, but today, 'mere' words got me, twice. I'm fine though. Thanks
Immense happiness is wonderful for whatever reason.
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Old 19-04-2012, 19:42
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Pleased to see you've safely returned, and glad you had company on your trip.
Hi Biz and thanks

Carpathia's not a very sunny name, though.
True Patsy! Either way that ship'll be linked to the Titanic forever.

Was incredibly coincidental that. I'd almost dare say spooky. Pleased to know your brother enjoyed my rhyme too. You had a good break and are all refreshed and full of new ideas no doubt. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on the thread as usual.
Spooky indeed Archiver I've got loads of ideas but I'm still currently posting oldies that I've corrected and polished ahead of the big file being made
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Old 19-04-2012, 20:31
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River song

Let's take a boat if weather's fine,
I'll row and we can meet
Upon a river serpentine
Where nature is complete.

To gaze around us as she sails
In moments made for dreaming,
Behind our vessel water trails,
A wake of ripples gleaming.

Old willow tree has thirsty needs,
His branches hanging low
Caress a bank arrayed with reeds
While summer breezes blow.

Sweet meadows now adorn each side,
How marvellous at leisure
To drift and enter eventide
For nothing more than pleasure.

And when the twilight-time takes hold
We notice passing swans,
Observing features turn from gold
To shadows deep and bronze.

The boat is moored but lastly here
As day becomes nocturnal
We see what angels hold so dear,
A paradise eternal.


©
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Old 19-04-2012, 23:31
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t’s close. He feels it coming near.
It’s close. Can hardly breathe in here.
It’s fast. It’s racing past the clock.
It’s fast. Can’t exculpate this lock.

Disquieted – he holds his breath in fast.
Disquieted – the sound of cracking glass?
Apart; he misses someone close.
Apart; he hears but never knows.

Strong his heart beats; weak it sounds.
Safe his brain feels but his mind is ground
By solely, singly, loneliness.
Two is an ocean, but one far less.

There’s no-one there, outside his door.
The empty halls and rooms are sure.
There’s no-one there inside his bed.
Just his broken heart and his shattered head.
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Old 20-04-2012, 00:28
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In The Groove

Ripples move against the sky
waves of cloud, they pass on by
pause a moment and then wave hello
and then soon enough, off it go
on the move and in the groove
mellow, sound and calmly soothe.
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Old 20-04-2012, 04:22
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(from bits of known facts and much speculation)

Pocahontas was at home a verdant North American flower,
Transplanted, groomed to world exotic by romantic power,
Fame by word unbidden came like most history, unknowing;
Back then blind fate would cultivate a famous blooming hour.
A bed of anonymity would by and by be fertilely o'erplanted
As legend or fiction has it, by one girlish and daughterly yen.

Captain Smith, a stranger and interloper from far-off lands
A would-be invader got raided, yoked by hostile native bands
Stood near death mortally threatened and expecting no relief
Only the coup de tomahawk from a bona fide Red Indian Chief.

Just in time and just in heart (it's said) Pocahontas interceded
For the colonial's continued existence so passionately she pleaded
This bold attempt succeeded, her father complied, he'd liberate.
The former captive freed indeed Powhatan even let to integrate.

Later as white and redman mixed she duly met post-Smith another
A certain colonial called John Rolfe became her one true English lover,
Home-bred women being a mite unplentiful in Rolfe's abode Jamestown
Vicious tongues may whisper: "squaw" but he would not turn a gifted horse down.

From her people on a miasma of history floated this "princess" Pocahontas,
Like a proud feather plucked from her native head-dress band.
She sailed away to old England to a new foreboding "civilised" land.
Under the crown of the great white father, King James, supplanting her's.

For good or ill as she decided by her strong and female will
A dutiful wife she'd go with this relatively strange husband.
Pocahontas would perish soon in a bleak cold and alien Britain
But would persevere in story faction as is still so often written;
To the present day the modern scribes will colourfully recount her
Most well known escapades and each imagined best encounters.

A statue of her stands today in that town ironically called Gravesend,
Whereabouts this apparent unsavage lady maybe was buried at her fateful story's end.
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Old 20-04-2012, 14:17
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There’s no-one there, outside his door.
The empty halls and rooms are sure.
There’s no-one there inside his bed.
Just his broken heart and his shattered head.
Fascinating stuff Patsy - I found this very moving.

Ripples move against the sky
waves of cloud, they pass on by
What a lovely mellow poem. Thanks for sharing it Sandy

A statue of her stands today in that town ironically called Gravesend,
Whereabouts this apparent unsavage lady maybe was buried at her fateful story's end.
Not only a very good poem but also an interesting history lesson Frank. How strange that Pocahontas may have ended up at Gravesend.
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Old 21-04-2012, 00:27
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[QUOTE=mr. mustard;57747758]. A minor point - wasn't it the Carpathia that was the nearest ship to the Titanic?Hello Musty welcome back. Funnily enough you raised the same point last time I posted this. About the California/Carpathia thing I read it was like this. A sad fact - the Titanic's radio chap was busy handling passengers' personal messages and told the other ship's operator to get off the line as it were, the Carpathia's man thought how rude & gave up the ghost there & then. Hence Carpathia arrived earlier from further afield. By the time Captain Lord got the message they didn't rescue a single person. Capt. Lord suffered a lot of blame in public official enquiries down the years, it remained historically, all controversial and clouded so I was a bit vague relating this aspect in my poem
Thanks for comments Biz and patsy.
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Old 21-04-2012, 00:35
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A sad fact - the Titanic's radio chap was busy handling passengers' personal messages and told the other ship's operator to get off the line as it were, the Carpathia's man thought how rude & gave up the ghost there & then.
Oh no, that's terrible Frank
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Old 21-04-2012, 01:10
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An old Scottish loch

There's an old Scottish loch where a story evolved
Which invites everybody to guess,
There's a mystery floating that no search has solved
At the loch that is known as Loch Ness.

On the shore Urquhart Castle is part of the view
Where the peat rolls down into the lake
And the sun lights the ruin and all the tides too,
Though the peat makes the water opaque.

Does the darkness reveal the last secret it keeps
When an unexplained echo brings sound?
And is something still diving in those murky deeps,
Is a monster still moving around?

Did an era of time leave a creature behind
That survived the long Ice Age's reign?
Is a dinosaur waiting for scholars to find
How what should be extinct can remain?

There's an old Scottish loch where a legend won't leave,
When the witnesses bravely confess
What they testify to you may never believe
But it adds great intrigue to Loch Ness.


©
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Old 21-04-2012, 09:48
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Prayer

Cast these heavy chains away
And let their shackles fall,
Tell me how I find a way
That leads me to your hall.

There at last behind the doors
I'll lose these tears of mine,
Where I'll place my hands in yours
Before you pour the wine.

Help my eyes behold and then
Return the skies to blue
So I see the world again
As beautiful and true.

Looking at the rivers here
Unable to decide,
I will choose the boat to steer
But only you can guide.

Show horizons far and warm
That bring a new domain,
Rid me of this petty storm
Along with fear and pain.

In the night when hope is gone
And I am less than whole
Shine your healing light upon
The darkness in my soul.


©
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Old 21-04-2012, 09:51
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What a lovely mellow poem. Thanks for sharing it Sandy

Thanks mr Mustard, I enjoy yours too
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Old 22-04-2012, 07:24
mr. mustard
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Thanks mr Mustard, I enjoy yours too
Please Sandy - call me Musty, all my friends do
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Old 22-04-2012, 07:56
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Oxford dawn

Before a person came along
Or any crowds arrived,
Before the birds attempted song
Or any traffic thrived,
When darkness was no more the hue
And early light was born
Exhilarating seemed the view
Upon an Oxford dawn.

I wandered streets I couldn't name
Where everything so old
Despite the early hour became
A picture painted gold;
Through empty squares and weathered tiers,
A distant chiming bell,
There flowed the life of fallen years
Like echoes in a well.

While teams of holy gargoyles frowned
From every lofty height
The thoroughfares I walked around
Were slowly turning bright.
As daytime started to impose
Its rule the joy increased;
When columns of the sun arose
My spirit was released.

The very structures that I saw
Appeared as gleaming fires,
An Oxford dawn in fleeting awe
Beneath the dreaming spires.


©
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Old 22-04-2012, 22:33
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A beautiful poem Musty - but you should really have been concentrating on your studies you know.
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Old 22-04-2012, 23:47
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Prayer and Oxford Dawn, both beautifully drawn Musty. Towards the front of your book for those two I think.


Retrospect.

Once upon a time when time was of the essence,
a lean to was inclined and full of effervescence.
As slowly as she goes and as strange as it seems;
the sun just glows and solar ray beams
shine down on chemicals from cosmic ice -
and up pops man to say; How Nice!

Time for work the whistle blew, but just can't find a job,
survived on hot gristle stew, washed down with a cob
and music and the fragrant whiff of chemical relax.
The vacant consequential difference reaching max.

Outwardly - another face as white as driven snow.
Inwardly - A Space Man. (I'm only twelve you know.)

How far behind the others
for our trouble and the lack?

Are those our mothers in the rubble?
Is that blood turning black?

[...]

After using up the power of ancient trees,
Man's finest hour came then with ease
of particle perfection in infinite coils.
At last; prevention from indolent toil.

But then and thereafter and long after that,
post possible disaster - just long days 'sat'
at implanted connection inside the head.
Believed to be someone else instead.
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Old 23-04-2012, 04:02
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A beautiful poem Musty - but you should really have been concentrating on your studies you know.
Ta Biz - Oxford really is far too beautiful to study in

Prayer and Oxford Dawn, both beautifully drawn Musty. Towards the front of your book for those two I think.

Retrospect.
Thanks Archiver I enjoyed Retrospect, another of your poems about the struggle of humanity. This one seems to end with technology sparing us from work but still not being the answer.
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Old 23-04-2012, 10:25
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Sweet Sweet Blossoms


Sweet, sweet blossoms
fall from the trees
slowly
llight as feathers
whisper kindly
such ease
make a path
of pretty pink
petals that skip
laugh, dance in the breeze.
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Old 23-04-2012, 14:27
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Thanks Musty and Biz (in advance ). Probably my last for a while. Cheers.


To many times.

So many many times
I've given you my rhymes.
Expectantly, agreed.
The pain of heart bleed.

Am I wrong, am I right?
Didn't make the point, quite?
Have you nothing to say?
Guess I'll be on my way.

Were my replies full of lies?
Were they unwise tries
to convey my deepest feeling?
Tired of my revealing?

Then I must say Adios.
Far too much gathered moss.
Leave the braggarts to their dance.
Many more worlds to entrance.
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Old 23-04-2012, 14:56
mr. mustard
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make a path
of pretty pink
petals that skip
laugh, dance in the breeze.
A lovely nature poem Sandy Much needed on a day like today!

Probably my last for a while.

Then I must say Adios.
Far too much gathered moss.
Don't stay away too long Archiver, I always enjoy your poetry
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Old 23-04-2012, 15:31
mr. mustard
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World War I chess

The pawns were ordered out of muddy trenches
To make the greatest sacrifice for pride,
Then thousand after thousand
Were shot at with their pals and
They stumbled badly injured or they died.

The knights were sent on next as reinforcements
To shield the pawns from bullet and from shell,
No cavalry could alter
Or stop the bloody slaughter,
The horses and the riders fell as well.

The bishops read out missives from the Bible,
They preached although they knew it wasn't safe,
Both mind and body mattered
But seeing pieces shattered
Made even trusting bishops question faith.

Relaxing at a castle full of riches
The King and Queen were served in wealthy halls,
At court the ones with power
Enjoyed each comfy hour
While pawns and knights they owned died for the cause.


©
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Old 23-04-2012, 22:30
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Hmmm. I'm a bit to tired to fathom that one at the moment.

World War I chess

©
Too painful to contemplate especially as there's no end to it.
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