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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#451 |
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As much as I'm enjoying this weather, it's affected my output. It feels too hot even to write
You could say I've dried up It's only a temporary setback though and I'm struggling to finish an epic. I'm sure I'd have completed the poem if there'd been grey skies ![]() I'm finding the heat and humidity very trying, and the resulting thunderstorms. People who say they love thunderstorms really can't know the damage they can cause. Right, I'm off to pull out television aerials and electric plugs - there's one forecast for tonight. Fingers crossed. Goodnight.
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#452 |
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Quote:
As much as I'm enjoying this weather, it's affected my output. It feels too hot even to write
You could say I've dried up It's only a temporary setback though and I'm struggling to finish an epic. I'm sure I'd have completed the poem if there'd been grey skies ![]() ![]() Have you managed to finish your poem? I managed to go and see The Beano exhibition in Beanotown. At the entrance, there was a funny sound that goes off as someone passes by, like a whoopee cushion.
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#453 |
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I'm finding the heat and humidity very trying, and the resulting thunderstorms. People who say they love thunderstorms really can't know the damage they can cause.
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#454 |
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I did wonder if the weather was affecting you, but pleased it's only a temporary lull in your poetry output.
I've had to buy some sunscreen as I got burnt recently.Quote:
Have you managed to finish your poem?
The Beano exhibition sounds great
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#455 |
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Not yet Sandy, it's about two thirds done. It's a re-write of a poem that got lost when an American site deleted it
The Beano exhibition sounds great ![]() ![]() It's a nice place to go and visit, it was free and that is a bonus.
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#456 |
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Oh dear, hope you manage to sort it.
![]() I used to love The Beano as a kid
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#457 |
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It was mentioned in the news that there was flooding in certain areas and a lady who had been struck was saved by her wellies.
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#458 |
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It will be done
I used to love The Beano as a kid ![]() I'm watching Big Brother.
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#459 |
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Wonders of the Stone Age
Let me shine revealing lamps On the early causewayed camps, Huge enclosures, earthern ramps. Long barrows that faced the east, Swift arrows that felled the beast Till a change that brewed like yeast: Hunters learned new ways to be Self-sufficient, thankfully Crops meant food and liberty. Seasons tapped a sacred feel, Time turned on an endless wheel, Consciousness became more real. In the spiral of their lives People cutting wheat with scythes, Beads for necks and flint for knives. Special nights when legends grow, Stories told of friend and foe Round the crackling hearth aglow. Ere the modern car and coin From the Orkneys to the Boyne Down to Kent all paths did join. Answers would be given soon, Questioning the sun at noon, Staring at the rising moon. Birth and rebirth, dawns that drape Light across the ripe landscape Made them focus on a shape; Circles pleased the stone age creed, Rings fulfilled their greatest need And one henge was vast indeed: Digging, straining with the haul, Tons of stone to map it all, Avebury, the capital. Here the lengthy Ridgeway road Ended at their motherlode Where the megaliths were towed. Contemplating nears and fars Underneath a sea of stars, Touching heaven's golden bars. Would that I had been there too With the ancient people who Made these lands divine and true. © |
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#460 |
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Beano and Dandy were mine.
A sleepless night for me. Re-posting another oldie was the best I could do - the heat's definitely affected my mojo
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#461 |
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Wonders of the Stone Age
You've got to do a volume for junior schools some time. ![]() Quote:
A sleepless night for me. Re-posting another oldie was the best I could do - the heat's definitely affected my mojo
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#462 |
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You've got to do a volume for junior schools some time.
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#463 |
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Very shortly I'll be off to Avebury with my photographer for the next book Biz. Colour shots should compliment the poems and make it attractive to the eye. I'm not expecting many sales, but the book after that will be different - I'll be going all out to get it published properly.
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#464 |
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You've got to do a volume for junior schools some time.
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#465 |
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Sadly, I don't think kids are really into history these days
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#466 |
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The Scream
The sun beyond the bridge that evening was low As Edvard Munch strolled with his friends in Oslo. Along with people Krakatoa slaughtered, To deepest shades of red the skies were altered. How odd that what exploded east of Java Discoloured vistas free of any lava. While others may have seen it with elation For Edvard crimson views meant isolation. He chose to place against a background beaming A lonely figure, hands at face and screaming. The shriek that human suffering can render: That moment when the world makes us surrender. Not only does his picture show the sadness, It functions as a mirror of our madness. The darkness in depression is infernal, That's why The Scream by Edvard feels eternal. © |
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#467 |
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It could be part of English lessons. That way knowledge is imparted under the radar.
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#468 |
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Quote:
The Scream
![]() PS People of all ages from young to old can find poems to enjoy (and benefit from) in your collection of poetry.
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#469 |
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That is brilliant; you've captured it perfectly. There can't be many people who haven't felt like that at some time in their lives, even if they haven't acted it out.
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#470 |
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Robin's Legend
When you feel the air turn crisper Rest between the trees and then Listen for the greenwood whisper, Haunting still the copse and glen. Bright the leaves upon the larches, Deep the roots devoid of light, Underneath these rural arches Arrows hit their targets right. Here he walked among the splendour Of this forest, came to blows Making wealthy fools surrender With the help of men and bows. It can cause a sudden shiver When you sense the archer’s eyes, Feathers ready in a quiver, Robin’s legend never dies. © |
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#471 |
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Quote:
Robin's Legend
© ![]() Seriously, reading enjoyable poetry enhances reading and language skills. Introduces vocabulary that they wouldn't otherwise encounter, and puts before them words which are spelled correctly. What's more they are not so likely to grow up to hate poetry because they've been introduced to the more convoluted stuff without proper preparation.
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#472 |
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What's more they are not so likely to grow up to hate poetry because they've been introduced to the more convoluted stuff without proper preparation.
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#473 |
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Silver Silver
Silver is a boon On a cold black night, Silver, silver moon Showing crystal light Silver glows the pond In a floating mist, Silver is the frond That the dawn dew kissed. Silver silver there When the winter’s nigh Silver, silver air Fills the cloudy sky Penny for the thoughts Of the ladybird, Rarely ever halts Hurries fast and blurred Silver off and on See the wax and wane, Though the moon is gone It returns again © |
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#474 |
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Silver Silver
© What's not to like about a verse like that? It's full of educational potential, and beautiful too.I didn't know that Thomas Hardy was a poet, though I've read all of his books. |
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#475 |
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Lovely Musty.
What's not to like about a verse like that? It's full of educational potential, and beautiful too. I must confess that I stole the form from Hither, Hither, Love by Keats. He's been dead long enough for me to post the poem, which I'll do shortly
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You could say I've dried up
It's only a temporary setback though and I'm struggling to finish an epic. I'm sure I'd have completed the poem if there'd been grey skies

The Beano exhibition sounds great
I used to love The Beano as a kid