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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#276 |
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Ta Archiver
The best guess for the tradition of passing through holed stones is that they represent portals, entrances to some kind of healing zone. It may be a collective folk memory that lingers on from prehistory, despite the march of time. Cornwall's fascinating and full of obscure ancient sites, I need to return as you do and visit others like Duloe and Lanyon Quoit ![]() Quote:
I loved your idea of a poem about incorrect word use and I'm working on one inspired by that Looking forward to seeing that already
. I'll post if I think of anything useful.Quote:
Shyness Kills©
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You haven't lost your sense of humour - I'm guessing we'll have crumbled to dust before the stone does.
I also find the beauty indescribeabubble (lovely word), though I find strength in it. ![]() As to the horrors around the world, I'm just thankful that I'm not the one who has to attempt to put them right. ![]()
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#277 |
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and did you?
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furthermore and by a choice
a pure and simple hum This has a positive message and like Biz I agree with the sentiments ![]() Quote:
A heartrending tale Musty, though if it is all true to your experience, shyness certainly didn't kill, it enriched your poetry - and you evidently have a social life.
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So many would recognise their own shyness in that, for sure. I think it would be quite stunning if spoken by a good voice. Need to know how (quickly) to say some of the words - for a perfect rhythm. Expert quality as usual.
![]() The poem was a major effort for me and the writing sessions took place over three days Lanyon Quoit's been described as 'a giant's coffee table' I found a link with a picture of it in a moving panorama, I hope it works.http://www.lookaroundcornwall.com/hi...nyon-quoit.htm |
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#278 |
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happy roves the rover
Happy roves the rover On his country way, With evening nigh The miles go by, Enchantment rules the day. Happy flies the spirit When it rambles free, His soul’s envoy Amid the joy Of meadow, hill and tree. He sits down contented, Patience not worn thin, A weary path Led to the hearth That warms a friendly inn. Happy roved the rover, ‘Hail fellow well met!’, He’ll drink and smile Then rest a while As gems of sunlight set. © |
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#279 |
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Thankfully, there are some amazingly gifted people working towards peaceful ends to deadly situations. Often at great risk to themselves like J. Christopher Stevens... ![]() Quote:
I'm much better now and I'm making friends, something I couldn't do at school. Really serious shyness can put a life on hold, in that it stops you doing the things you want to. I know it did that to me, but I'm glad I can now look back on it and understand what happened. ![]() |
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#280 |
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Heaven on earth.
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#281 |
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Thought-provoking as ever Sandy This has a positive message and like Biz I agree with the sentiments ![]()
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#282 |
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happy roves the rover
A weary path Led to the hearth That warms a friendly inn. . © very nice MustyThe rover finds a place to dwell but for a little while to learn understand a way to wake the blue lit sky. |
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#283 |
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The rover finds a place
to dwell but for a little while This roving ode is like a nice ricochet off of my one I'll be posting another new piece later - a break from the Avebury suite has freed me up and it's great to write on some different topics again
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#284 |
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Candy's Songs
It hurt the time Candy was smitten, She didn’t want that mess again, A case probably of once bitten Twice shy of attracting the men. Beside a port Candy had grown up, Its trawlers had died and left doubt, Her good friend Maxine she would phone up Or vice-versa when they went out. Performances never were low-key Down at the old Fisherman’s Net Where Saturday night karaoke Gave people the chance to forget. In t-shirt and jeans and red trainers For feeling Maxine liked to strive, She always did Gloria Gaynor’s Ubiquitous I Will Survive. But Candy they watched in the bar tick All boxes, she made souls explode, Her Angels was deeply cathartic, The love Robbie Williams gave flowed. A screen and the lyrics appearing, With them any blues she could beat And Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams was so searing The microphone sparked in the heat. Outside her voice echoed along through The streets where the workers had walked, Dead docks were no place to belong to Yet in the pub music still talked. She sang to rough diamonds and charmers Devoid of good jobs and much brass, Like actors in kitchen-sink dramas They knew Candy’s singing was class. © |
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#285 |
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Candy's Songs
© I'm sure Candy will feature in "Talent" or "Voice" as a prelude to becoming a household name. There's so much hidden talent out there.
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#286 |
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Been trying to express something for some time now, but as often happens, someone's post (in another thread) helped. It isn't a poem and it's really short, but I like it, so I thought I'd post it here as well. It seems to make me feel better
but that's down to having got it off me chest. ![]() We are life. Alive is just the temporary illusion of individuality. |
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#287 |
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Quote:
Been trying to express something for some time now, but as often happens, someone's post (in another thread) helped. It isn't a poem and it's really short, but I like it, so I thought I'd post it here as well. It seems to make me feel better
but that's down to having got it off me chest. ![]() We are life. Alive is just the temporary illusion of individuality.
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#288 |
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That is so true Archiver; has been since the first human being and will be until the last one. All the more reason to treasure every moment of our life while it lasts. We're all part of the story of humanity, you as much as anyone else.
![]() May even apply to all life in the galaxy and beyond. :swoon:
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#289 |
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Exactly
May even apply to all life in the galaxy and beyond. :swoon:
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#290 |
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I'm sure Candy will feature in "Talent" or "Voice" as a prelude to becoming a household name. The poem was fairly visual, I hope readers got pictures from it ![]() Quote:
We are life. Alive is just the temporary illusion of individuality.
We are golden'
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#291 |
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Illumination may be imminent.
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'We are stardust,
We are golden' ![]()
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#292 |
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"Viciousness in the kitchen,
the potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, the fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine" |
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#293 |
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I'm alright now. I had a lie down.
![]() ![]() Quote:
"Viciousness in the kitchen,
the potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, the fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine"
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#294 |
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English Treasure
Queen Boudicca's calibre Arthur’s sword Excalibur Poppies at the Cenotaph Gandalf and his magic staff, Finely-crafted Morris treats Triffids on deserted streets Waterloo viewed by the Kinks Beardsley girls outlined in inks, Country lanes that tend to wind Dreams that Millais left behind Looming Stonehenge megaliths Dover's high and chalky cliffs, Betjeman and William Blake Bluebird speeding on the lake Alfred Hitchcock, Robin Hood Roast beef next to Yorkshire pud, Pots of tea for pick-me-ups Non-league teams in FA Cups Cornish bays with little boats Kenneth Williams anecdotes, Vintage cars that need a push Lily Langtry and Kate Bush Barges on remote canals Enid Blyton's Noddy tales, Fish and chips and shepherd's pies Eric Morecambe, Ernie Wise Tommy Cooper's scarlet fez Whistle Down The Wind and Kes, Village taverns, Desperate Dan Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man Sunshine on the Pennines Way Skies of unrelenting grey, Alan Bennett, Morrissey Weston-super-Mare by sea Peter Pan, a bear named Pooh And The Long Good Friday too, Henry Tudor's lengthy reign HG Wells and Michael Caine Winston Churchill, Rubber Soul English Treasure makes me whole. © |
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#295 |
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English Treasure's an oldie but as with several poems in The Designer it needed a few changes. 'Singles by the Kinks entice' was a line I was never fully happy with, and the alteration brought in another artist I like as a bonus
The reference to Dover has been slightly amended too
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#296 |
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I love it Sandy, 'the blue lit sky' is a great description
This roving ode is like a nice ricochet off of my one I'll be posting another new piece later - a break from the Avebury suite has freed me up and it's great to write on some different topics again ![]()
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#297 |
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English Treasure's an oldie but as with several poems in The Designer it needed a few changes. 'Singles by the Kinks entice' was a line I was never fully happy with, and the alteration brought in another artist I like as a bonus
The reference to Dover has been slightly amended too ![]() I wondered about "Barges on remote canals Enid Blyton's Noddy pals." Tales is the only awkward rhyme.
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#298 |
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Been trying to express something for some time now, but as often happens, someone's post (in another thread) helped. It isn't a poem and it's really short, but I like it, so I thought I'd post it here as well. It seems to make me feel better
but that's down to having got it off me chest. ![]() We are life. Alive is just the temporary illusion of individuality.
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#299 |
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Glad you loved it Musty, to me, it was more an interlude than a ricochet.
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Yes, I agree, the changes are an improvement, although I thought "Waterloo" referred to the battle and/or the song by Abba.
I wondered about "Barges on remote canals Enid Blyton's Noddy pals." Tales is the only awkward rhyme. ![]() 'Tales and canals' has always bugged me too but focussing on Noddy's pals alone leaves him out of the equation. Thus the solution must be to change the word canals. I'll be back later - I love problem-solving in poetry ![]() EDIT: Sunny singles by the Kinks I like that as it absorbs Waterloo Sunset, Sunny Afternoon and nineteen-sixties optimism 'Barges floating free of sails' has just come to me
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#300 |
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A very pleasant interlude Sandy
![]() Drat, I hate leaving confusion and I can see those unaware of the single Waterloo Sunset may be baffled Biz. Time to think again 'Tales and canals' has always bugged me too but focussing on Noddy's pals alone leaves him out of the equation. Thus the solution must be to change the word canals. I'll be back later - I love problem-solving in poetry ![]() ![]() Hope you don't mind Musty but I've come up with 'Barges on ripply flowy waters as Enid Blyton's Noddy saunters'
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The best guess for the tradition of passing through holed stones is that they represent portals, entrances to some kind of healing zone. It may be a collective folk memory that lingers on from prehistory, despite the march of time. Cornwall's fascinating and full of obscure ancient sites, I need to return as you do and visit others like Duloe and Lanyon Quoit
