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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4)


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Old 22-08-2016, 08:15
Bobbysmom
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Hillsborough


In Loving memory of, Lee Nicol. May you Rest In Peace.











Also, to the other 95 who lost thier lives that day.

And thought to all families and loved ones who have had to endure everyday and forever more Amen.

Memories and thoughts will never be silenced.

Amen.



Stuart Watson

5 January 2005

R.I.P
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Old 22-08-2016, 08:22
barbeler
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Jessica by Polarbear
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Old 22-08-2016, 08:58
Bobbysmom
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Night shift.

Bloomin' 'eck I'm tired
I just worked through the night.
And I've got it all to do again
If I read my rota right.

Bloomin' 'eck I'm weary
My back is giving me gyp
And there's a very funny twinge
twanging in my hip.

Bloomin' 'eck I'm knackered
I do hope I sleep well
Coz trying to get through another night
tired can be hell.

Bloomin' 'eck I'm happy
In my own sweet way
Coz working lots and lots of nights
gives a GREAT payday!
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Old 22-08-2016, 10:56
SaturnV
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I recently discovered this poem on The World At War read by Laurence Olivier.

"Son" was written by the Russian Jewish poet Pavel Antokolsky,a year after the death of his 18 year old son Lieutenant Vladimir Antokolovsky,killed in action on June 6th,1942


Do not call me,father,do not seek me,
Do not call me,do not wish me back.

We’re on a route uncharted,fire and blood erase our tracks.
On we fly,on wings of thunder,never more to sheath our swords.
All of us in battle fallen,not to be brought back by words.

Will there be a rendezvous? I know not.
I only know we still must fight.
We are sand grains in infinity,never to meet,never more see light.

Farewell then my son.Farewell then my conscience.
My youth and my solace my one and my only.

And let this farewell be the end of a story,
Of solitude vast and which none is more lonely.
In which you remain,barred forever and ever,
From light and from air,with your death pangs untold.
Untold and unsoothed,not to be resurrected.
Forever and ever,an 18 year old.

Farewell then,no trains ever come from those regions
Unscheduled or scheduled,no aeroplanes fly there.
Farewell then my son,for no miracles happen,
As in this world dreams do not come true.

Farewell…

I will dream of you still as a baby,
Treading the earth with little strong toes,
The earth where already so many lie buried.
This song to my son,is come to its close.

http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread801701/pg1

It's quite bleak on the face of it but faces up to the finality and sheer pain of loss and is devoid of platitude.
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Old 22-08-2016, 17:14
Bobbysmom
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[quote=SaturnV;83689775]I recently discovered this poem on The World At War read by Laurence Olivier.

"Son" was written by the Russian Jewish poet Pavel Antokolsky,a year after the death of his 18 year old son Lieutenant Vladimir Antokolovsky,killed in action on June 6th,1942


That just takes my breath away.

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Old 22-08-2016, 18:19
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Poison.

Angels Trumpets and English Yew
Look so very pretty.
As does Water Hemlock.
But they'll kill you, more's the pity.

White Snakeroot looks tame enough.
First glance you'd never know
That it can take your life away
As sure as one fatal blow!

Wolfsbane with it's purple bloom
would look good in any bouquet.
Yet it is one more flower
that could give you your last day.

So what is Mother nature
showing us all here?
She's proving that the pretty things
Can cost us very dear!

So be warned and do take heed,
Appearances can deceive.
Be very careful what you take,
And know the things to leave.
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Old 23-08-2016, 11:36
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Oops double post
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Old 23-08-2016, 11:41
mr. mustard
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Great to see the thread rocking Anyone who's familiar with me knows I continually respond to every poem - bar the rare obscene ones. The joy of this thread for me has always been the sheer variety of material posted. Way back around 2006/7 DS trolls stopped us sending in published work by modern poets. In fact, they did the thread its biggest favour - far from going under, it's gone from strength to strength.

I must apologize for my long absence again, as I've been working flat out on 230 old poems for the tome. That said, It still pains me not to respond to the material people send in. I don't want to keep going on about the book, because it's taking a blumming long time to assemble. Hopefully, 'Farewells and Love Songs' should be available at Christmas, which I'm told is the best time of year to publish. I'm not particularly interested in sales, what I really need is a good portfolio to hock around. Any sale will be a bonus though
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Old 23-08-2016, 11:45
mr. mustard
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See you on Thursday folks, can't wait to catch up on all the new posts - the thread be rocking

I shall respond to the lot

A poem a day
Keeps stagnation at bay

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Old 23-08-2016, 18:17
Bobbysmom
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Great to see the thread rocking Anyone who's familiar with me knows I continually respond to every poem - bar the rare obscene ones. The joy of this thread for me has always been the sheer variety of material posted. Way back around 2006/7 DS trolls stopped us sending in published work by modern poets. In fact, they did the thread its biggest favour - far from going under, it's gone from strength to strength.

My GOODNESS, it sounds like this thread's history would make a good tale !!!

Well done you for writng a book. I look forward to it's publication because, of COURSE Poetry is NOT a dead art.




.
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Old 23-08-2016, 18:23
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Here is one for Mr Mustard
A poetry lover no doubt.
There's nothing quite like a bit of a rhyme
To get those feelings out.

It's very easy to let them flow
Make it up as you go along.
And before you know it, there it is
A poem or a darn good song!
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Old 24-08-2016, 01:46
archiver
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The Voice.

I thought I saw an alien. Hiding in a tree.
It didn't look mammalian. Its 'eye' was fixed on me.

It made a kind of squeaky noise which could have been a scream.
I lost grip, of my toys and fell into a dream.

The pictures were like Hubble ones I'd seen on the tube.
Then a life force in trouble from a massive cube.

Life signs declining on a Star Trek graph.
No silver lining, but a startling laugh
engulfed my perception. It was all there was.
Universal deception. Just because.

I woke up feeling rather unwell.
The alien being began to tell
me clearly of an awful choice.
It spoke sincerely with my voice!

I knew it meant me no harm.
So evidently full of charm
and friendly as I've ever known.
From then, I've never been alone.

The day we merged to doubly one.
Observers observed a telly-tubby sun
and stars came out that very night
looked all the same, but more bright.


The Choice.

How to put it in a rhyme. Let this be the worst time.

Every bullet kills you back until you find you're on your jack.
And then the enemy within eats you up and wears your skin.

Not a patch on who you were. No match for this occur.
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Old 24-08-2016, 09:18
scottie2121
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Wannabe

I’m a wannabe singer in a bland boy band
bombing social media - in hope of a helping hand
it’s all on online - settings on virtual success
it’s gonna be amazing - there’s no option - nothing less

we’re all over youtube - got followers on whatsapp
feeding twitter and facebook - got our faces on snap chat
it’s a shortcut shimmy when my camera loves me
I want/need/deserve my 15 seconds in this world of MTV

making movies of our moves
uploading all our grooves
shouting from the roofs
sign us up sign us up

we practice every day in my bedroom rehearsal space
photos and video s bombing the world wide place
I so wannabe - so log on - look and hit
that smiley emoji - like - share - viral it

I wanna live my dream - I want it so much
that’s all I’ve gotta do - the rest is just a rush
so got it out there - waiting for the break
see it - want it - get it - fame for fame’s sake

making movies of our moves
uploading all our grooves
shouting from the roofs
sign us up sign us up

dreams of girls and booze
I’ve got no life to lose
you can trash my blue suede shoes
just sign us up sign us up
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Old 24-08-2016, 17:52
Bobbysmom
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The Cycle

Birth.
Hello and welcome to your life
With luck there's a good one in store.
And if you find that's not the case
Perhaps the next will offer more.

Life.
How's it going? Is it all
that was possible for you?
Please God you live a good one
Always straight, always honest and true.

Death.
And now it's time to say au revoir.
Your time is up. It's done.
I'll shed a tear but it's not goodbye
We'll meet in the next one.

And Beyond.
Hello there, it's good to be here.
I missed you so very much
But luckily we HAVE met again.
And we'll forever be in touch.
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Old 25-08-2016, 17:20
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HERE


I came upon this place by chance when feeling low one day.
I stayed and read and found myself suddenly writing away.
The words they flowed onto the page, over and over again,
and as they did they took with them a lot of angst and pain.

Who'd have thought that sitting down and writing on a screen
would have such impact on a life? Certainly not me !
But there it is, I'm better now, and here to tell the tale
And now I read what others write, the stories they regale.

Though I don't know any of the people who write here,
In a way I DO know something of their hopes and fears.
Such a myriad of thoughts and feelings can be found
when you take a little time to look and read around.

Some are funny, others sad, some I don't understand.
But one thing I am sure of, it's never dull or bland.
I, for one, would label this a very excellent thread.
So there you go, I rest my case, poetry is far from dead!
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Old 26-08-2016, 12:44
Bobbysmom
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Based on true events.


Busy, busy housewife does her weekly shop.
No-one's got as much to do as she has, she can't stop.
No time to be polite to the underling she sees
sitting behind the till, too slow! She is displeased.

Busy busy housewife tuts and stares at it.
Why can't he hurry up? Move it along a bit.
Was he just BORN stupid? That MUST be the case.
Not as good as she is, a blessing to the human race.

Busy busy housewife eventually gets served
But this fool is fumbling, he has such a nerve!
Now she has to tell him in no uncertain terms
that he is an incompetent fool, a stupid little worm.

Busy busy housewife has the right to shout
at the idiot sitting there, "Hurry, hurry, let me get out"
But this doesn't work and the fool stumbles more.
So now she gets right in his face and gives him 'what for'.

Busy busy housewife is now incensed with rage.
Doesn't he realise how important her shopping is today?
At last the thing has done it's job, now it's time to pay
She puts her card in, it's denied! WTF? No WAY!

Busy busy housewife blames the boy on the till.
Idiot! YOU did it wrong! I'll have your job I will!
She tries again and still no joy, and now she's fit to burst.
She snarls at the boy some more and throws in the odd curse.

Busy busy housewife, such a loving wife and mother
Thinks she is so wonderful, but has no time for any other.
She has to pay by cash, the CHEEK! It cannot be HER fault!
so she slates the boy some more, and then leaves a parting bolt!

Busy busy housewife queueing behind the nasty one
Sees and hears everything, Thank God HER shop is done!
She looks at the boy and sees the tears streaming down his face.
Her heart goes out to the broken lad, she wouldn't be in his place.

Busy busy housewife takes the time to care
Asks the boy if he's okay? He seems totally shattered there.
His tear filled eyes have a haunted look, it takes her breath away.
And through broken sobs he tells her "My Mother died today".
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Old 26-08-2016, 14:07
archiver
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I enjoyed 'Wannabe' Scottie. It'll be down to fifteen milliseconds of fame soon. Would make great lyrics for a song by The Barron Knights, if they were still around. It would even work Stone Roses 'I wanna be adored' style.

Ruth! The Cycle, HERE and 'Based on true events' are all good. I was thinking along similar lines to 'HERE' yesterday and I wrote the one below. Really good to have you 'here'.


The Thread.

World within a thread where much is said.
Where every word is hardly heard.

The proverbial pen strokes and then
a masterpiece of elbow grease?

One may complain about the rain.
Or pick a fight with the night.

One may choose to try to lose
some restraint so you can paint
much more than black and white.
Less shade. More light!
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Old 26-08-2016, 17:28
Bobbysmom
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. Really good to have you 'here'.


Thank you so much archiver

I've read a lot of your stuff and feel I know you a little bit already
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Old 26-08-2016, 19:05
Bobbysmom
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Who's stringing who along?



When I first moved to this town
I left all my mates behind.
Didn't know a soul here
I nearly went outta my mind.

Then I saw you in MaccyD
You smiled and said "Wassup"
I giggled and blushed and went dead shy
and hid behind my cup.

Next time I saw you
was beginning of Summer
That's when you snogged me
and gave me your number.

You have loads of mates
but we texted a lot
I thought you were cute
You said I was hot.

We'd meet now and then
For me it was real.
We snogged a lot
and you'd cop for a feel.

Then I found out
You've got a girl.
Been with her ages
I wanted to hurl.

Your mates told me
It was just for a laugh.
You do it a lot
coz girls are that daft.

You reckon your clever?
Stringing me along?
You'll regret this forever
I won't hold my tongue.

Your mates think you're cool
Using me like a toy.
But you're a bit thick.
I used to be a BOY!
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Old 27-08-2016, 10:10
mr. mustard
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Here is one for Mr Mustard
A poetry lover no doubt.
Bobbysmom - thanks for your ode to me, I enjoyed it You're just the sort of person we like here - friendly, funny and obviously talented! I hope you stay around for a long while; many have come and gone. When I'm finally through making corrections on my material here, I shall rejoin the thread

Till next time my friends
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Old 28-08-2016, 02:08
Bobbysmom
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Bobbysmom - thanks for your ode to me, I enjoyed it You're just the sort of person we like here - friendly, funny and obviously talented! I hope you stay around for a long while; many have come and gone. When I'm finally through making corrections on my material here, I shall rejoin the thread

Till next time my friends

Thank you again for your warm welcome. I look forward to seeing you again xxx
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Old 28-08-2016, 02:18
DDRickyDD
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There once was a man
Who had a piece of ham
He called it sam
And didn't give dam
Until the ham
Was found to be spam
Then he was told it was a scam
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Old 28-08-2016, 15:34
archiver
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Separation.

Life sweet dream of recreation.
Comforting the mind.
Steam, release, retaliation.
Blind after blind.

Death a minor deviation.
Over, out and on.
Such a special speciation,
when it's gone - not gone?

Words begat such weirdness.
No one could explain
the absolute absurdness,
but could point to the pain.

Story tellers put it
in poetry or prose
then tried to make it fit
beyond the end of their nose.

Sorry that I doubted thou.
Believe with all thy heart.
The deep folds behind my brow
keep us apart.
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Old 28-08-2016, 16:45
Bobbysmom
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There once was a man
Who had a piece of ham
He called it sam
And didn't give dam
Until the ham
Was found to be spam
Then he was told it was a scam
THAT made me laugh out loud .... for real
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Old 28-08-2016, 16:46
Bobbysmom
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That pulled at my heart strings
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