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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4)


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Old 30-06-2015, 09:31
mr. mustard
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Garden Glimmers

Once around the dahlias
And twice around the roses,
Fast along the garden fence
Where the shadow closes.

Briefly on the lantern there
The faerie rests and poses,
Nobody believes me though,
For nobody supposes.


©
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Old 30-06-2015, 09:47
belly button
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Garden Glimmers

Once around the dahlias
And twice around the roses,
Fast along the garden fence
Where the shadow closes.

Briefly on the lantern there
The faerie rests and poses,
Nobody believes me though,
For nobody supposes.


©
When the sun is shining and I'm among the flowers , for a couple of hours I suppose for sure that fairies do indeed exist.

I love this quote by J.M. Barrie , ' Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time '

'I do believe in fairies. I do ! I do ! I do! '
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Old 30-06-2015, 10:42
IzzyS
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When it comes to assembling my book, we're going to use Createspace.com Izzy. It's supposed to be fairly cheap but with good production values
Sounds interesting, thanks for the URL
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Old 30-06-2015, 11:53
Elyan
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Darkly down a hellish road
A figure unashamed
Stepping forth, the tripod’s load
To lean upon its frame

Head raised high and eyes afire
Looked all about the crowd
Some glad to see him in the mire
And others heads a-bowed

Spread and lashed at hand and feet
Now fixed upon the beams
A leather gag will serve to beat
His curses and his screams

For here today the floggers whip
Will make his crime atone
And tear and pull and burn and rip
His muscle, flesh and bone

‘One’ cried out, and a bolt of pain
To make him swear inside
But ‘Two’ tears at his back again
Before the pain has died

‘Three’ and on to ‘Fifty Five’
A doctor signals more
Trembling legs to still he drives
As flesh is turned to gore

Hanging drool and blood and spit
And tears to burn his eyes
But hard is ground the leather bit
As the counting he defies
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Old 01-07-2015, 12:48
belly button
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A very interesting poem BB - I wasn't sure if the dog in question was actually some kind of demon. Dark and disturbing, but I'm not sure if that's what you intended with the piece. Either way I enjoyed it
No not a demon Just a mischievous little pup
It wasn't intended to be dark and disturbing at all. Just goes to show how words can't always express correctly the meaning of the author .
I'm moved to write something dark and disturbing now though
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Old 01-07-2015, 14:31
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The Harvest

He found his spade beneath its hide and cutting tools to harvest
To supply the order was his aim, he made this trek the farthest
As not wanting those who knew him most to glean his occupation
But times were hard with mouths to feed, so close to them starvation.

He’d waited for a starless night with clouds to veil all lunar
And drunk at ale to dull his fret so fear was gone much sooner
Arriving at his chosen spot he looked about for viewers
Perceiving none he dug the sod , alone upon the moors

His horrid labour then disturbed by ghouls brought on the wind
They whistled song to frozen ears and played while flesh he skinned.
The graves of dead not long for rest he marked as hidden treasure
The hearts of men he stole for food , this harvest not with thresher.

When sudden pain began to crush the thing he robbed from others
He settled down upon the earth he’d cleared from sons and mothers
And as his life began to fade, the last he heard was laughter
The portent ghouls assured him now he’d not be safe from Snatcher.
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Old 01-07-2015, 14:42
scottie2121
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Full Moon

I remember . . . .

staring back
to the moon,
fed by the tidal drag
head thick
as full of drink
my body pulled taut like an arrow
drawn to that one point of light then
blood-rush
like quicksilver
tearing through my veins
to a savage change

then………

in the morning light
looped tight naked on the floor
exhausted
reluctant to shift again
the cracked taste of blood
caked in my mouth
arms scraped legs snatched
blood-black thorns embedded deep
all hunger gone
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Old 01-07-2015, 21:41
IzzyS
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Slowly time passes,
guilt forms,
what is it im meant to do?.

I'm sure I had plans,
all the time I worked hard,
longing for the holidays to arrive,
its finally here and I go blank,
sat, staring,
its on the tip of my tongue,
in the recesses of my mind,
im sure of it,
aren't I?.

Every moment, an opportunity lost -
what purpose waits, with untold patience,
for me to re-discover and put into action?.

Thought after thought,
I seek the purpose that previously came to mind,
wishing a clearer focus would return,
for second passes after second,
like the ticking of a clock...

Time marches on, patience becoming weary,
clarity is the writers prized possession,
with the potential to convey all I feel,
think, hope, fear, wish,
if only!.

As I bury my head in literature,
endless tales enacted in front of my eyes -
story after story,
tale after tale,
in the big screen of my mind,
I'm escaping what would have been,
we all need escapism,
from time to time.

Once and again I attempt to focus
and author what comes to mind,
never quite sure what the keyboard will say,
when I read it back -
what is it that needs to be authored, on this day?.

We all have our own, personal stories,
our own challenges, successes, emotions and pride,
potential is powerful indeed,
so I clench my fists, determination builds
and I work my way through the mist of words, thoughts, feelings,
emotions and everything else, floating around my mind,
to see what I can conjur up right now.

Time may have a small element of patience,
in the long term,
its certainly less judgemental,
yet age never slows.

They say we only live once, so live it well,
or at least satisfactorily, to your content,
do what feels right in your heart,
try to hold on to your fleeting thoughts and ideas
and make the most of it all,
so in time, you can look back and say,
with confidence,
that you did what you came to mind.

Such things are certainly not easy
but contentment comes from within.
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Old 02-07-2015, 10:18
belly button
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Static laser forks piercing earthly mantles
Charging current attacking dwellers , vandals
Cracking bolts splitting streams of electron fire
Thrashing air bruised black with the switches of live-wire
Thor the angered sweating hails boulders on the cowering
Weak and feeble against his weapon , deadly scouring
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:05
mr. mustard
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When the sun is shining and I'm among the flowers , for a couple of hours I suppose for sure that fairies do indeed exist.
Hi BB I believe other life-forms exist. William Blake saw a fairy funeral in his garden at Felpham
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:10
mr. mustard
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Hanging drool and blood and spit
And tears to burn his eyes
Wow, what an incredibly vivid account of a flogging Elyan I wondered if it was about Jesus, or maybe a punishment at sea in the old British Navy. Either way, it's an amazing piece
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:12
mr. mustard
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Just goes to show how words can't always express correctly the meaning of the author .
It's strange how that happens. Poems that lack a clear meaning get interpreted differently by different people
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:18
mr. mustard
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His horrid labour then disturbed by ghouls brought on the wind
They whistled song to frozen ears and played while flesh he skinned.
Great stuff BB I could see the digger in question, shovel in hand and lit by the moon. Some excellent rhymes in there too - especially 'lunar' and 'sooner'.

The subject reminded me of Ed Gein, the ghastly killer and grave-robber who inspired Robert Bloch to write the novel psycho
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:21
mr. mustard
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the cracked taste of blood
caked in my mouth
The thread's going through a very dark phase, full of gut-wrenching imagery - I love it

Another powerful write from you Scottie, your poetry always paints incredible pictures.
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:25
mr. mustard
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They say we only live once, so live it well,
or at least satisfactorily, to your content
Or, as Kenneth Williams once said:

'If life's a joke,
let's make it a good one'

I enjoyed the poem Izzy
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:28
mr. mustard
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Thor the angered sweating hails boulders on the cowering
Weak and feeble against his weapon , deadly scouring
As a kid I used to love Thor in the old Marvel Comics, so this was right up my street

You can't beat a good Thunder God
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:35
mr. mustard
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Wicker Man

They built me slowly, tier by tier,
A giant made of wood
And after my construction here,
Like Gulliver I stood.

I watched the pagans farm and pray,
Without eyes I observed
A distant hill-fort and the way
The king inside was served.

Spectators cheered the proffering,
The chosen few were led,
A sacrificial offering
To keep the Corn God fed.

And as the crowds began to bow
The sun fell red and warm,
Those sacrifices waited now
Within my wooden form.

Religious beacons kindled flame,
It roasted timber seams
Till from my blazing torso came
The most horrendous screams.

They died as embers scattered hot,
Flesh burnt and voices wheezed
Yet to the wise it mattered not,
The Corn God was appeased.

Some wager Rome invented me
To slur the British folk;
I haunt you still, an entity
That fills the sky with smoke.


©
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Old 03-07-2015, 10:59
Elyan
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Wow, what an incredibly vivid account of a flogging Elyan I wondered if it was about Jesus, or maybe a punishment at sea in the old British Navy. Either way, it's an amazing piece
I pictured British army - circa early 19th century, when flogging was fairly common.

Thanks Mr Mustard.
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Old 03-07-2015, 21:31
sandydune
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A canopy in the shade

As sun glistens upon
the water ripples so
as a boat stands still
from afar the colours
a canopy in the shade
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Old 03-07-2015, 22:03
belly button
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Wicker Man

Religious beacons kindled flame,
It roasted timber seams
Till from my blazing torso came
The most horrendous screams.

They died as embers scattered hot,
Flesh burnt and voices wheezed
Yet to the wise it mattered not,
The Corn God was appeased.

©
You're right !This thread has taken a gruesome turn
I remember finding that film really disturbing, but what a brilliant poem that is
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Old 03-07-2015, 22:16
belly button
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As a kid I used to love Thor in the old Marvel Comics, so this was right up my street

You can't beat a good Thunder God
I'm hoping for another light show tonight. Lucky enough to be in the thick of it the other night. That's a bit of a selfish thing to say really as hailstones smashed three thousand panes of glass at a local garden centre
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Old 04-07-2015, 22:03
sandydune
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Originally Posted by IzzyS




Time may have a small element of patience,
Great line IzzyS
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Old 04-07-2015, 22:06
sandydune
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Originally Posted by belly button
I'm hoping for another light show tonight.
And there was, last night, this morning
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Old 04-07-2015, 22:24
sandydune
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Originally Posted by mr. mustard
Garden Glimmers


Briefly on the lantern there
The faerie rests and poses,




Aren't the old box cameras like lanterns?
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Old 05-07-2015, 11:24
housegirl
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Thought some on here might be interested in this I love reading this thread


THIS week marks the first anniversary of the death of magazine magnate and poet Felix Dennis.
Mr Dennis, who died at his home in Dorsington aged 67, compiled his final book of poems after being diagnosed with cancer in early 2012. Entitled I Just Stepped Out, the collection of poems was handed to his publisher just two weeks before he died.
Mr Dennis said of the book: “This is a peculiar collection of verse, perhaps unique in one sense — as a Verse Diary begun on the day before I learned I had contracted cancer in both my lungs and had only a short time to live.

http://www.stratford-herald.com/3882...his-death.html
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