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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4)


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Old 07-03-2015, 09:18
mr. mustard
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Stepping Out Again

I hit the street, a happy soul
And found a place for rock and roll,
A bar, a pint, a stage in light,
Skafinger played a set that made
The caution of the people fade,
We danced into the night.

Another late one with a drink,
Another band, another brink,
The blessings still outweigh the lows,
It's good to seize them, heaven knows
Whatever else may come.


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Old 07-03-2015, 09:20
mr. mustard
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My virtual place
is like outer space
Gorgeous and uplifting John - another beautiful poem with a hint of your sci-fi leanings

In other news, Archibald the Trumper has become the final addition to the book, with a slight change to verse three
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Old 08-03-2015, 09:58
belly button
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Gorgeous and uplifting John - another beautiful poem with a hint of your sci-fi leanings

In other news, Archibald the Trumper has become the final addition to the book, with a slight change to verse three
With the British fascination of 'Trumping' and its eternal hilarity , you have just nailed a best seller with its inclusion



Musty was quite nervous at the launch of his new prose,

The crowd was gathered waiting as he read the ones he'd chose.

Archibald the Trumper was the last that he imparted,

And in appreciation, the fans stood up and f**ted .
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Old 11-03-2015, 11:55
scottie2121
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Time’s Arrow

If only time’s arrow could be turned to retrace its flight
And all that scavenger time corrupts, be undone,
Then day after day life’s pains and lines would fade
In the journey’s course towards where life has begun.
The wisdom of age and experience not gathered too late
But there to grasp when you’re in your prime.
Head and heart rejuvenating, pains never lingering,
Back through looseness of limbs and quickness of mind.
But pause . . infancy shrinks purpose and strength,
Co-ordination and perception start to fail.
The feebleness of ages would still bracket our lives,
And all shrinks to a lost and helpless wail.
If time’s arrow could be turned to retrace its flight
Eternal darkness would still claim the flare of life’s light.
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Old 11-03-2015, 15:15
victor mel
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She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
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Old 12-03-2015, 21:54
IzzyS
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Swimming in thoughts,
each day I swim away,
constantly;
fighting the waves of doubt,
fears and anxiety.

My head seeks reassurances
hoping on one level, for some time of clarity to come -
yet constant anger seems to bubble away all the same,
like two opposing siblings,
peace and happiness, aggression and frustration,
I feel both lie within - bubbling underneath.

I sense the latter pushing me,
towards outburst,
vocalise whats pent up,
yet I fear the voice of negativity
can never be content,
will always find fault -
am I doomed, to fight against myself forevermore?.

I'm not all bad
but I fear I'm too harsh,
on myself,
and so I let the negativity win.

Oh to slow down the tide,
for it tires me, being constantly aware,
but how much I would enjoy the beauty
and peace of calm seas.

They say life is a journey,
and so I hope I can (if but eventually) sail into the distance
in calm, settled waters,
with anticipation for what the horizon brings,
not worries, fear and concern.
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Old 15-03-2015, 22:59
archiver
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Fl-ounce.

Outbid by The Gannet
on this totally rubbishy planet.
Resorted to brown ale.
It's why I sound so pale.

Fifteen thousand quid
was my maximum bid.
I went to sixteen
(the sample was so clean)
but now some other guy
may be achieving MY high.

And what of tomorrow?
Sorrow upon sorrow?
Shall I even watch The News
to emphasise my blues?

Will I be able to sleep?
My thoughts are fast and deep
and I can not turn them off
without that which makes me cough
or far too much beer.

Maybe I'll just disappear.
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Old 15-03-2015, 23:20
Danny_Silver
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Love is not a feeling.

Everybody suffers from love
Or the fear of it, or the lack of it.
Why?
Why is love so universally and inevitably heart-breaking,
whether it be through the end of a love affair, the death of a loved one or being locked in with the habitual casualness or grim indifference of a partner?

The answer is because we've been taught and conditioned by the world to believe that love is a feeling.
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Old 16-03-2015, 09:29
mr. mustard
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Archibald the Trumper was the last that he imparted,
And in appreciation, the fans stood up and f**ted .


I'm glad you're backing Archie's inclusion BB I love your Archie spin-off by the way - it does seem odd that the last addition to the book is an ode about breaking wind But heaven forbid any intellectuals should praise my material and Archibald should waft that lot away

Great to see the thread's been active in my absence. Welcome Danny Silver if you haven't posted before.

As ever, I shall read every poem and comment on it - but not today, as time's pressing and I have a longish one to post. I'll be in touch through the week and my stay away time is over
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Old 16-03-2015, 09:44
mr. mustard
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Plastic-Heads

We are plastic-heads
Occupying beds,
Helpless in our rows,
Pale and comatose.

Luminati Lords
Drugged the Starbucked hordes;
Right from coast to coast
Pipes and tanks were dosed.

Masses fell asleep,
Till guards took us deep
Underground to stay
Doped and held at bay.

Groggy, I awoke
With a feeble croak,
Lying on clean sheets,
Forced to watch repeats.

Plastic goggles strapped
Like the millions trapped,
Christ, I'm sick of these
Ancient DVDS:

Reservoir Dogs, Shane,
Singin' In The Rain,
Total Recall, Jaws,
Face/Off, Sliding Doors.

Taxi Driver, Sleuth,
Fiddler On The Roof,
Halloween, Born Free,
Forrest Gump, E.T.

Fifty Shades Of Grey
Five strict times a day,
All my anger damns
The Silence Of The Lambs.

Tootsie, Robocop,
When the credits stop
Guards inspect our chains
Then inject our veins.

Chanting codes I find
Tends to ease the mind:
TR628,
TR628,
TR628.

TR628,
Every film I hate,
Can't somebody free
Plastic-headed me?


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Old 16-03-2015, 09:55
mr. mustard
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On Saturday nights my local frequently has live bands on. I love music and my favourite band there are Catch 22. I'm a part-time roadie for them - an unfulfilled dream; I love lugging amps and cases out to the van

But to the point - the guitarist I've got to know quite well and he's always had a problem writing lyrics. I'm going to let him have an adapted version of Stepping Out Again, which is at the top of this page. If he does manage to put music to it, I can't wait to hear what he comes up with
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Old 17-03-2015, 00:18
archiver
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As ever, I shall read every poem and comment on it - but not today, as time's pressing and I have a longish one to post. I'll be in touch through the week and my stay away time is over
Always appreciated, but I don't like my last one, so no need to comment unless you feel you must Musty.

I really like your Plastic Heads one. More abstract than your usual style and a sure sign you haven't finished yet - if I'm not mistaken.

I may well have encountered TR628 as a transistor designation on an early colour TV, or similarly complex device, schematic diagram - back in the days when electronics was mostly discreet components. They were/are plastic encapsulated...

On Saturday nights my local frequently has live bands on. I love music and my favourite band there are Catch 22. I'm a part-time roadie for them - an unfulfilled dream; I love lugging amps and cases out to the van

But to the point - the guitarist I've got to know quite well and he's always had a problem writing lyrics. I'm going to let him have an adapted version of Stepping Out Again, which is at the top of this page. If he does manage to put music to it, I can't wait to hear what he comes up with
Excellent moves imho, having had the great pleasure of meeting many local band members by similar means myself (many years ago). Great that the band you're helping need lyrics too. Could be just the beginning. Could you get into extrovert mode and perform some of your work yourself?

Reminds me of a rhyme I wrote: http://forums.digitalspy.co.uk/showt...6#post66961306
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Old 17-03-2015, 21:24
IzzyS
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Living by IzzyS

Living and learning,
working and earning,
every day, wondering
what the next will bring.

So much potential
lies beneath,
below the surface,
each and every morn,
when the sun arises -
behold, the golden gift of another chance -
a chance to get things right,
a chance to make the most
of the circumstances we're in.

What will you do with yours?.
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Old 19-03-2015, 20:59
performingmonk
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Living by IzzyS

Living and learning,
working and earning,
every day, wondering
what the next will bring.

So much potential
lies beneath,
below the surface,
each and every morn,
when the sun arises -
behold, the golden gift of another chance -
a chance to get things right,
a chance to make the most
of the circumstances we're in.

What will you do with yours?.
Great.
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Old 19-03-2015, 22:04
belly button
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budget plays


Drop the taxes
Stop the welfare
Sell the assets
Drain the Healthcare
Divide and conquer
That's the spirit
Up the thresholds
Cap the limit
Give with one
Take with other
Feed the greed
Starve another
Fuel the profits
Buy to let
Capital gains
Offset debt
I commend this budget
To the gainers
Stuff the losers
You're just drainers
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Old 20-03-2015, 11:17
belly button
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The Catch


Storm cloudy dawn revealed intent
Though fishers wages all but spent
A fateful hunger set their mission
And said their prayer as was suspicion

Ten miles from harbour saw the catch
Against the wind did set a match
They strew their nets across the shoal
Ignored the squall their swallow hole

Triumphant swearing brought relief
The day was saved was their belief
Though release forbidden the cruel sea
By watery graves their lives not free

Each aching back pulled in the harvest
Unsteady stance of would be carcass
The grip now fear a seeping drenching
Soon their prize no longer fetching

Now bleak horizon gave its demon
A wave of monster snared the seaman
Their pleading prayers were lost to ether
No angel saved them from this reaper


The heaving water smashed the starboard
The captain urged the crew go forward
The hidden rocks like murder magnets
Stretched their fields as sucking dragnets

The end approaching souls stood shaking
Its fragile hull cracking, breaking
A gift of foresight not bestowed
Lost SOS foretold dead load
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Old 21-03-2015, 10:30
mr. mustard
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I may well have encountered TR628 as a transistor designation on an early colour TV, or similarly complex device, schematic diagram - back in the days when electronics was mostly discreet components. They were/are plastic encapsulated...[/b]
That's a lucky coincidence John TR628 in Plastic-Heads was based on the David Bowie song TVC15. I needed a code and Bowie's alien persona came to mind. TVC15 is on the album Station To Station - the cover of which shows a scene from The Man Who Fell To Earth.

Reading out my own poetry is impossible, but a friend did recite some in a theatre in Eastbourne once. I was too shy to even attend

I'm using March, April and May to finish the work. Some poems need changing back to their original formats. It's easy to over-egg the pudding; with hindsight first thoughts are often best.

I can confirm the title is Farewells And Love Songs and it contains around 40,000 words I think. There will also be colour photographs illustrating some of the material. The book is being dedicated to Nimue of Avalon. She was a brilliant contributor to this thread but sadly, like Biz, she's vanished

Great to see the place has been rocking! I'll try to read some of the new poems today
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Old 21-03-2015, 10:33
mr. mustard
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Stuff the losers
You're just drainers
Just excellent BB - what a fast pace the poem has and it says everything about the greed-heads
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Old 21-03-2015, 10:38
mr. mustard
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Trilobites

Let your imagination go
Back to the churning undertow
Five hundred million years ago.

Before the dinosaurs took part,
Before the land-mass split apart
A new crustacean made a start.

They prospered when the seas were clear;
Impressions in the rocky tier
Confirm the trilobites were here.

A teeming mass of life before
A single thing crawled on the shore,
An army without tooth or claw.

The segments of each thorax shone,
Beneath the blue they floated on
Until they fell, extinct and gone.

At times a shimmer comes to me
Of Cambrian prehistory;
The endless trilobites I see.


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Old 21-03-2015, 10:49
mr. mustard
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A deep and complex piece Scottie. Beautiful as ever - I'll need to read it again when I've more time to take it in fully
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Old 21-03-2015, 10:52
mr. mustard
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
This is great, really moving stuff Victor. it reminded me a bit of Dylan Thomas and his 'Rage against the dying of the light'.

Welcome to thread if you haven't posted before
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Old 21-03-2015, 10:55
mr. mustard
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a chance to make the most
of the circumstances we're in.
This rang so many bells Izzy. Believe it or not, I've met someone and the next week will decide what's going to happen. It could be a big turning-point in my life

I'm glad you're still around Izzy
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Old 21-03-2015, 11:00
mr. mustard
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Flounce ye not John - you're needed here

The answer is because we've been taught and conditioned by the world to believe that love is a feeling.
Exactly Danny! I don't know what love is, I just know that it's there. Great write by the way
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Old 21-03-2015, 12:26
IzzyS
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This rang so many bells Izzy. Believe it or not, I've met someone and the next week will decide what's going to happen. It could be a big turning-point in my life

I'm glad you're still around Izzy
That's exciting - I hope it works out for you thanks, I'm glad I'm still around too lol in a manner of speaking. I felt it had been some time since I'd tried to write anything, so I reckoned it was long overdue and I hadn't really been on this site for some time, so it was nice to make a quiet return. Best of luck with your book!

I can definitely relate to feeling too shy or nervous to attend a recital of your own work (or attempt one yourself). I read a book recently called 'Reasons To Stay Alive' about dealing with depression and anxiety, written by someone who was badly affected by said issues himself - its a very good read and I gather the author is still travelling around the UK attending signings and other events. He's doing well to manage it all - I think I'd likely be too modest to feel comfortable trying to promote my work a great deal. If someone asked me if my material is much good, I'd mostly likely say 'take a look for yourself - I'll leave it for you to be the judge of that', or 'thats up to personal preference' etc. well ok I'd probably say its not great but hey-ho(!) *shrug*
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Old 21-03-2015, 15:30
sandydune
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Mighty and Tall

Unfortunately but indifferently
as trying to convey
a poem for your viewing
or as in another way
words of encouragement
to whether but a storm
there a distant lighthouse
some say maybe small
my dear come near
stand mighty and tall
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