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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 3) |
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#1851 |
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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 ![]() ![]() Quote:
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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#1852 |
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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. Quote:
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. |
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#1853 |
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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 ![]() 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.Quote:
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. ![]() 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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#1854 |
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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 ![]()
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#1855 |
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Pleased to see you've safely returned, and glad you had company on your trip.
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Carpathia's not a very sunny name, though.
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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 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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#1856 |
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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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#1857 |
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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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#1858 |
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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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#1859 |
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old one revived POCAHONTAS
(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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#1860 |
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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. Quote:
Ripples move against the sky
waves of cloud, they pass on by ![]() Quote:
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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#1861 |
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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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#1862 |
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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.
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#1863 |
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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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#1864 |
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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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#1865 |
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What a lovely mellow poem. Thanks for sharing it Sandy
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#1866 |
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Thanks mr Mustard, I enjoy yours too
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#1867 |
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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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#1868 |
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Oxford dawn
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#1869 |
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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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#1870 |
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A beautiful poem Musty - but you should really have been concentrating on your studies you know.
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Prayer and Oxford Dawn, both beautifully drawn Musty. Towards the front of your book for those two I think.
![]() Retrospect. 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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#1871 |
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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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#1872 |
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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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#1873 |
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make a path
of pretty pink petals that skip laugh, dance in the breeze. Much needed on a day like today!Quote:
Probably my last for a while.
Then I must say Adios. Far too much gathered moss.
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#1874 |
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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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#1875 |
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To many times. ![]() Quote:
World War I chess
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Aberdeenshire has over a hundred and sixty just in that area, off the beaten track but amazing 
