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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#3051 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
I don't know why but this reminded me of that deluded twit Jeremy Corbyn
![]() ![]() He says stuff other people don't say, that makes him different.
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#3052 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
When Davros heard the rumours and invited it along, The leader's questions only made it burst into a song
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#3053 |
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Quote:
thought I may be the only one that liked it![]() |
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#3054 |
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Marilyn
The girl who stayed confused, Her beauty would be used, A smile that she was good at faking, An absent mom and dad, It seems she always had A heart that never quite stopped aching. The lonely whirlpool dazed And could not be erased, Yet some fulfilment came when rising Through puberty's strange glen, Discovering that men Find your appearance tantalizing. Nude photos went ahead Reclining on a bed, The agents who control reaction Ensured most liked it hot And after every shot The casting couch demanded action. With Joe Dimaggio Love didn't last, although The world was dazzled by her glamour, Her dress rose in a gust And then she turned to dust, The misfit broken by fame's hammer. It's something in her eyes, A dumb blonde never dies, Each Marilyn fan reminisces, A goddess here despite The briefest earthly flight, She poses still and blows us kisses. © |
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#3055 |
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Accrington Stanley
When footballers were manly A humble team set forth; 'Come on Accrington Stanley!' They used to shout oop north. They had no greats like Rooney, They lacked a superstar, More Sid James than George Clooney, Less hip than Cantona. Though cheques with lots of zeroes Would not come Stanley's way, Its baggy-shorted heroes Were worshiped in their day. On brave FA Cup missions They always got knocked out And high non-league positions Would rarely come about. Unlike those gracing Wembley, The stands were full of holes Which froze the small assembly As Stanley let in goals. The turnstiles were all rusty, The pitch was in a state, The pies were hard and crusty, The toilets weren't too great. Aware it was no hot-spot, At full-time from the club Fans went home for a hotpot Or cold pints in the pub. They had no Greaves or Keano, Yet Accrington FC Were British as The Beano And cups of Rosie Lee. © |
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#3056 |
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Quote:
Another great military ode - I found this had a deep sense of foreboding Elyan. I'm not familiar with the term pleach though
![]() When a fortress wall was knocked down by the guns, the defenders would scramble to fill the gap with anything they could find.Breach was essential, and there aren't many rhyming options. ![]() Thanks again musty. |
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#3057 |
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True Young
There are poems to write there are stories to be told there are the wonders of life and what there is to hold the memory of all that is and of future so untold with grace and love be genuinely supportive of the true young and of the old |
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#3058 |
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That's ok
That's ok you do know not for you have a very dot you say what told by them that brings a verity to men and women who hold some truth they are love the fortitude |
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#3059 |
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Put You On A Stair
Carried you there put you on a stair as you took those steps were you really aware or did you falter on without any heed of those left behind that gave you a need |
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#3060 |
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With these hands I crack the eggs,
Floss my teeth, shave my legs, Write the cheques, count the fivers, Make rude signs at priggish drivers, Clean the goldfish, light the fires, Pump up half a dozen tyres, Feed the hamster, worm the dog, And decorate the Yuletide log. 2nd verse from With These Hands - Pam Ayres. Went to see her last night in Wakefield, she was very funny. |
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#3061 |
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Above the Shore
The flag is flying above the shore as the tide comes back for more the sea still learns because of doubt as the pebbles learn to shout the sand becomes a constant shift with a soothing movement drift |
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#3062 |
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Quote:
It's a fence made by knotting hedges and other bits and pieces together.
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#3063 |
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Colleen O'Shea
This is the story of Colleen O'Shea, A lovely young Kilkenny lass, Eccentric and wayward, her mind used to stray At school and especially at Mass. Colleen liked roaming the lush countryside And saw what no others could see; Odd little creatures and fairies that glide, Defying the Earth's gravity. Down in the forest they flew around fast, On a branch she witnessed five, Sometimes they chatted to her as they passed, Sometimes they'd hover and dive. Colleen at dusk in a Kilkenny field Or when another day dawns, Finding the top-heavy toadstools that shield Parties of drunk leprechauns. Her Da didn't mind and was always polite To gossips who pointed and laughed But one day he asked the good Reverend John Knight Was his daughter gifted or daft? The priest held his Bible in private with her And probed visions seen by Colleen; Three Hail Marys later he told Da they were Just daydreams affecting a teen. Colleen O'Shea went her very own way With secrets she'd never reveal, Colleen O'Shea never had much to say; She knew that the magic was real. © |
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#3064 |
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Quote:
There are poems to write
there are stories to be told
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#3065 |
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Quote:
2nd verse from With These Hands - Pam Ayres.
Went to see her last night in Wakefield, she was very funny. Thanks for posting the poem too, she's genuinely hilarious
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#3066 |
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Quote:
the sand becomes a constant shift
with a soothing movement drift
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#3067 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
You can't beat communing with the sea to mellow out Sandy. Another evocative piece
![]() ![]() The sea is a good listener, no wonder people sometimes do like to be by the sea.
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#3068 |
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Quote:
I love Pam Ayres, Dancer
Thanks for posting the poem too, she's genuinely hilarious ![]()
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#3069 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
Marilyn
Each Marilyn fan reminisces |
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#3070 |
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I think poetry was always a minority art. It's more noticeable now though because there are so many other forms of media.
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#3071 |
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But poetry is everywhere really. Words , conversation and life is poetry. Feeling is poetry relationships in families are poetry. Saying hello to your mom in the morning can be poetic. You just have to see it that way.
The way you feel inside makes life poetic. |
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#3072 |
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I Walk Through The Words
I walk through the words as though they were fields some much barren and then some with true appeal nurturing them well so that they will grow with love and respect as so they will show |
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#3073 |
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Quote:
Just realised I should've left a line between the last line of the verse and my comment; it looks as though it all part of the verse
![]() I could tell where the poem ended though
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#3074 |
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Quote:
The way you feel inside makes life poetic.
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#3075 |
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Quote:
Marilyn, never forgotten. From some pictures I have seen of Marilyn, she could be with other people on social occasions but sometimes seemed as if she was quietly alone.
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thought I may be the only one that liked it

I could tell where the poem ended though