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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4)
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archiver
08-05-2015
Originally Posted by scottie2121:
“I'm clearly your muse, Archie. ”

Indeed. Must be obvious you 'got to me' a bit. Silly me.
belly button
08-05-2015
Again and Again

Put your X in the box
No not that one !
Now look what you’ve done
A five year re-run
So you like killing foxes
And you’ll never need welfare
Well bully for you
Cos for some it’s a nightmare
Still, you can buy a few shares
In the new NHS
And when the stocks crash
Hope that your prayers
Have the power of healing
As that’s all that you’ll get
Unless you got lucky
And haven’t got debt
So sod all the slackers
Be glad you are Right
Sleep sound in your beds
As you’ve given a green light
To those that shout ME ME !
archiver
08-05-2015
^^ Brilliantly done bb. We lost.


Greater Than Zero (an experiment in sequential alphabeticism).

Awed by awful awesomeness
Blinded by big bloody mess
Captured clean caressing dress
Divisive dream, but I digress.

Eventually erasure eases
Final fiction firmly freezes
Growing that which greatly greases
Helps heal holes whatever he says.

I intend industriously
jokingly and jarringly
as kindly and as knowledgeably.

To love learn likeability.

My motive may make many mad
No nonsense. Narrative so sad
Opinionated? Obviously.
Perfect person? Probably.

Quick! Quote me quietly,
randomly, respectably,
subjectively and Superemely.
My testament so time(align)ly.

Unless..

Using utterly unknowns
to verify vocations bones
will wipe away wild whitterings?

Exclude all exciting things.

You think my poem's nearly done?
Zero is where I begun.
archiver
09-05-2015
Too late to edit, but the moral of that last one is 'make rules if you like, but make them bendable'. It's the best way, given less than full understanding.
belly button
09-05-2015
Thanks Archiver
No doubt I'll rally in a day or two. I had to tone that one down a bit before I posted it. The original was very cathartic

I love your poem above . Nothing wrong with being opinionated , as long as it's the same opinion as mine of course
Your poems are so thought provoking. I hope you keep writing them for some time yet . I would miss them .
archiver
09-05-2015
** thanks again bb. Well oiled again I blame. It lifts, but shortens, so in case I don't get back to you - have a great one.

Big high fives to scottie2121 and all who venture here. Vive la différence!
MRSgotobed
09-05-2015
Originally Posted by belly button:
“ Again and Again

Put your X in the box
No not that one !
Now look what you’ve done
A five year re-run
So you like killing foxes
And you’ll never need welfare
Well bully for you
Cos for some it’s a nightmare
Still, you can buy a few shares
In the new NHS
And when the stocks crash
Hope that your prayers
Have the power of healing
As that’s all that you’ll get
Unless you got lucky
And haven’t got debt
So sod all the slackers
Be glad you are Right
Sleep sound in your beds
As you’ve given a green light
To those that shout ME ME !”

Exactly! The Narcissistic/Psycho party have a re run. ME! ME! ME!

Great stuff belly button.
MRSgotobed
09-05-2015
Originally Posted by archiver:
“^^ Brilliantly done bb. We lost.


Greater Than Zero (an experiment in sequential alphabeticism).

Awed by awful awesomeness
Blinded by big bloody mess
Captured clean caressing dress
Divisive dream, but I digress.

Eventually erasure eases
Final fiction firmly freezes
Growing that which greatly greases
Helps heal holes whatever he says.

I intend industriously
jokingly and jarringly
as kindly and as knowledgeably.

To love learn likeability.

My motive may make many mad
No nonsense. Narrative so sad
Opinionated? Obviously.
Perfect person? Probably.

Quick! Quote me quietly,
randomly, respectably,
subjectively and Superemely.
My testament so time(align)ly.

Unless..

Using utterly unknowns
to verify vocations bones
will wipe away wild whitterings?

Exclude all exciting things.

You think my poem's nearly done?
Zero is where I begun.”

So clever-wish I could write like this. Izzy and musty can do this too, I love it, I can only do daft Pam Ayres stylee and that's hit and miss.
IzzyS
09-05-2015
This is my latest poem. Its a bit melodramatic but oh well, pretty much more of the same, I guess thats whats whirling around my head at the moment(?!) *shrug* I'm not sure if it works but I spent a fair while working on it and I think this is as good as I can get it to be.

The Inner Bully by IzzyS.

While the blood keeps dutifully flowing,
breathing begrudgingly rising and falling,
the mind forevermore keeps wondering, yet not knowing,
pondering - wishing and hoping, questioning -
what is next to come? what will be? will there ever be a change to anything?.

Each day presents a new chance, or so they say,
to wipe the slate clean, get up and try again
but try what? every day is simply more of the same surely,
one more day after one more day?.

So it can feel, so you deem it to be, the same in so many ways,
worries, habits, wishes, hopes and fears,
the question is - when will I take control?.

'But I don't feel I can', the voice inside complains weakily,
'I can't stomach ridicule', the dialogue continues,
'...and failures are inner disasters from which you may never fully recover.'

This is the way I tend to be and I imagine I'm not alone -
internally, I suppose im protecting myself from becoming a fool,
but yet the truth lurks nearby,
silenced but ever present,
like an untouched tool,
gleaming, asking to be used,
yet my doubts over-power me.

you'll never be fully happy if you don't risk getting out there,
it is for your own good you break through, open up, take but the smallest of risks,
so the truth moans, patience running thin.

The head feels so very disillusioned,
frustration and disappointment annoyingly rule supreme
but I just can't grasp the courage, to let down my hair,
reveal more of how I think and what im like,
to speak out, take risks, try new things,
socialise and find my place, where I truly belong,
wherever that may be.

Mockery frightens me so and that is a powerful fear,
the wish to protect yourself from things you don't want to hear,
ultimately meaning your letting yourself down - and why?
because of the 'what if's?' that may not even have been,
its so frustrating, I could cry.

If nothing changes, I'm simply left,
to deal with disappointments, frustrations, introversion
and all manner of routine humdrum-ness.

So I suppose as much as I complain things may never change,
its ultimately me and my over-cautiousness that lets me down,
I must try not to listen to that inner voice so much,
and do what comes to mind more;
then perhaps a new sense of freedom will occur...
and days might be relished more emphatically, opportunities truly grasped!
hope and determination may take over at last!

If I can attempt to make this change,
I beckon all similar to follow suit,
as you never know what may be -
the mockeries, judgements, criticism we may be so very scared of,
may not even end up being,
the fear of such being the bigger bully overall,
and life may be much happier with a stronger feeling of contentment
being the ever breathing, ever living person we are.

A person not afraid to open up, if but briefly
and make peace with themselves.
sandydune
09-05-2015
A Waltzing

So here we
go the carousel
what a lark
must be had
has time flown
near to charade
come a waltzing
my dear love
IzzyS
10-05-2015
Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,
constantly, never ending, churning,
ever present, ever critical, ever wondering,
what am I doing? where am I headed?
what am I not seeing and moreso
why do I feel this way?
This constant unsettling sensation,
I should be doing something else,
somewhere else, living a life
I do not yet have.

Oh how the mind wanders,
if you let it,
so many quiet whispers can be heard
leaving you questioning,
critical, frustrated, feeling unsure -
what is right for me? do people think what I think they think?
where do I go from here?

My stomach flutters,
all I know is I don't know the answers,
this unsure line of questioning is baffling indeed.

Perhaps its best, to not question
not feel sad for the disappointment you feel somehow obliged to carry,
instead accept, hope your wrong and console yourself,
one day those criticisms you think may be proven utterly wrong.
archiver
11-05-2015
Originally Posted by MRSgotobed:
“So clever-wish I could write like this. Izzy and musty can do this too, I love it, I can only do daft Pam Ayres stylee and that's hit and miss.”

Thanks. I hardly seem to stray from rhymes on a theme which is worrying me. I'm always thinking of discussions here and elsewhere and the internal dialogue sometimes pops up a phrase suitable for a first line - then it's all downhill from there.

My latest:

Concerning Learning.

Promoting spiritual lies
like, you know no one really dies,
provides the big smiley thumb.
prepares the child for what's to come.

Never knowing what to believe
Never ending means to deceive
Ways to think you're greater than
your neighbour of that other clan.

Education has much to learn.
Information of prime concern,
not spiritual enlightenment.
I'm writing to the government.

No wait! It's a conspiracy!
No a sublime deficiency
A major stumbling block
trying to beat the clock.

Wait! Just what is the hurry?
Surely no need to worry.
God won't mind, if He's there,
if we learn to be fair.

No place for spirits in our schools.
They are the preserve of fools.
archiver
12-05-2015
On Getting On.

Always think twice before being nice.

It's rudimentary to be rude and essential to be crude.

You can smell worse than dung. Just say you're highly strung.

You can shout "In my day only one shade of grey."

You can moan about the pills and how you always feel chills.

Your certainty is strong that everyone else is wrong.

Your demeanour is quite shaky and everywhere is achy.

You're never in the mood for their offerings of food.
It always tastes like shite because no one can cook right.

Give them an earful if they try to make you cheerful,
or a piece of your mind if you're feeling unkind.

Because soon you'll be gone. No more to put upon.

belly button
12-05-2015
A choice between human fear of death or mouse oblivion.

Be Mice or Men

Little mice in the hay field what are you musing
Do you wonder about meaning and fear of life losing.
When you find a corn's ear do you imagine prosperity
As you nibble on chaff do you ponder posterity
Probably not clarity.

Little people driving combines I know what you’re musing
You're trying to find reason , it’s all so confusing.
The corns not enough, you want to make flour
Simple to complex is using each hour.
Probably power.

See mice in the hay fields know they’re life short
No hour to waste baking , no time to extort.
It’s there in each moment just being to exist
No knowledge of ending, no death waiting list.
Probably subsist.

Does it seem so idyllic the mind of a mouse
No worry of ending, no grinding mill house.
Would you then change places with little Tom Tit
Swap a life in a hay field for the human remit.
Probably unfit.

Two mouse years of freedom with no worry of dying
Or aged mans eighty and end not denying.
If your choice is the latter than it’s best to accept
Time gifts us reflection, human minds can regret.
Inevitably fret.


The End.
archiver
12-05-2015
Enough Said.

For this day's lesson.. how to begin..
A major confession of ultimate sin?
With vivid description in great detail?
Or a livid expression of how you fail?

Or oceans of kindness placed on a whim?
Or devotional blindness, though chances are slim
that the meaning of life is a paltry affair,
have you seen how many stars up there?

I'd like to say something deeper than this.
Something you really would not want to miss.
A phrase to take with you wherever you go.
Something you'd want your children to know,

but it always comes out like a bit of a joke.
The ramblings of some old bloke.
All pitiful and sad to see.
So, I guess, that's all from me.

Spoiler
Who said "Hooray!"? Was it you at the back?
Right then. In that case - I'll be back.
archiver
13-05-2015
How To Be Free.

Extra! Extra! We want more!
We're the ones you're working for.
Grab your partners by the hand
and make submit to our demand.

Feed me. Feed all the needy.
We are nice, but very greedy.
Give us all your daily bread.
You can eat rice instead.

Catch me with a huge TV?
I won it on the lottery.
Envious of my trainers?
Copious complainers.

What you need is more compassion.
You got much more than your rashion.
Time to share your stuff with me.
Then; perhaps you will be free.

Think of the less fortunate
while looking at the hoard you glut-
onous stasher of wondrous things.

Before the fat lady sings,
let's get together for my good.
Life would be ace, if you would.
archiver
14-05-2015
Lost Reason.

Do you love me yet?
May I expect
a nod or a wink
for what I think?

Were my words outrageous?
My rhymes not courageous
enough for today?
I just wanted to play.

Should I up the ante?
Surreptitiously plant a
device in your dreams?
I don't have the means.

No time to explain
the growing pain.
No place to face
my own disgrace.

No reason for rhyme any more.
belly button
14-05-2015
Originally Posted by archiver:
“Lost Reason.

No reason for rhyme any more.”

Always reasons to rhyme Archiver
scottie2121
14-05-2015
Autopsy

Take the scalpel
and make a single incision from throat to crotch.
Then part the flesh –
fists grasping the severed edges,
and, with a slight, sticky, tearing sound
open the two envelope flaps of skin
to reveal the soft, messy workings of the corpse

Ok . . . you say you have a broken heart.

The white ribs show no signs of trauma,
no attempt at resuscitation . . .
so crack the cage and peer in . . .

My eyes morbidly wander
through the history of growth and decay.
The answer is here . . . somewhere.
All I have to do is search with cold objectivity.

Your bloodless heart, dried shrivelled,
ever so slightly cracked,
is not broken,
(you always exaggerated)
so I’ll suck comfort from that.
The congealed rest looks merely arrested,
paused by the drama of it all.

I’m back at ease and rest from you.

So . . . where is the crack in my heart?
The blood in my tears?
The numb disbelief?
My heart should be hard as bone
set in the knowledge of my righteousness.

So why do I hurt so much . . .
scottie2121
14-05-2015
If I buy you a pair of red shoes
Will you dance for me?
If I buy you a pair of golden sandals
Will you dance beside the sea?
If I buy you a pair of silver boots
Will you travel the world with me?
If I buy you a pair of white slippers
Will you marry me?

Buy me a pair of red shoes,
And I will dance for you.
Buy me a pair of golden sandals,
And I’ll dance by the sea of blue.
Buy me a pair of silver boots,
I’ll travel the world with you.
And if you buy me a pair of white slippers
Then I will marry you.
archiver
15-05-2015
^^ Utterly superb scottie. Thanks.

Snapshot.

Perfect image in high resolution
Full detail, but no solution
Climate changing with the wind
Mankind doomed however spinned.

Can't dare express the worst of it
Why share depression's worthless pit
when all I need is a sunny day
and friends coming out to play.

Shall DS poets meet again?
With so much left to explain
So much anger, so much pain
A funny way to complain.

How strange we are so far apart
but sing together for our art.
belly button
15-05-2015
Scottie, 'Autopsy' has staggering visual impact. Brilliantly written.

Countering Horror

Won’t look at ripping , seen too much sanguine dripping,
Need light with passion, not corpse that's ashen.
Sew up the slashes, wash off thrash splashes
Exposing innards, stop looking inwards.
Spiral sky-high makes a wise guy.
Stars perspective not introspective.
Pain drags sapping with guttural trapping,
Blinds all thrilling, merciless mind killing.
Tenth floor imagination over basement aberration.
Soar not gut crawl, smashing, crashing cell wall.
Take asphyxiation or breathing actualisation .
Damn those hells, dance with bluebells
Take love from them, let's fly again. Yes, 'are men'.
IzzyS
15-05-2015
What do you write
when the words dont come?
thinking, hoping, dreaming
of inspiration to arrive,
in the form of words, phrases,
statements, exclamations!
The possbilities are numerous -
journeys to be imagined,
described in vividness,
your only limit is your mind.

I admit, sometimes I wonder
how to bring across that which is felt,
all thats contained within,
emotions, imagination,
fear and excitement,
love and hate.

The little quirks of life
which are appreciated so much,
yet could easily be ignored
and the moments that upset,
changing everything in an instant.

Dread, fear and concern,
stopping us in our tracks,
they can not be seen as such
but boy can they be felt!.

What is obvious and to me, real,
may not be to you,
so I try my best, to say things how I believe them to be,
convey how I feel,
put my life across with plenty of zeal.

So as I say, words are a gateway,
if expressed correctly,
poems can help you see,
life from anothers perspective,
how things may be,
to someone else, with a different background,
experiences, issues, personality,
a differing pair of eyes.

Differing they may be
but with a determination to write,
type, express themselves -
they can bring a whole other world to life,
pulling away the devastating cloak of invisibility.
sandydune
15-05-2015
The Words Were There

The words were there
missed them so
some sigh and anger though

The remarks were there
heard them so
heaves relief to those that know

The feelings were there
felt them so
as love and kindness grow
mr. mustard
16-05-2015
Wow - the thread's been rocking its socks off

I'll try to catch up after posting a poem
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