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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#976 |
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Location: Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
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Brontë land
Alone a wild hawk soars, The Yorkshire silence roars And ghosts leave seances of thought Across these bleak-faced moors. Grey clouds loom overcast Like capsules of the past, Here stone absorbs the march of time And clings on to the last. No area forgives, This desolation gives The wind a voice that should have died Yet wuthering, it lives. I turn into the sleet Where moorland spectres meet, The hawk has gone, the ink is dry, The poem is complete. © |
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#977 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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Quote:
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Perhaps they'll return soon. Always look on the bright side. ![]()
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#978 |
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Join Date: Jun 2011
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
The Love That Never Died
I built tall walls and fences Yet still for her I sighed, Removing my defences, The love that never died. No cure has ever righted The lasting wound inside, Detained and unrequited, The love that never died. In dreams we are caressing, Without her I confide She left me with a blessing; The love that never died. © |
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#979 |
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Join Date: Nov 2004
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Quote:
Brontë land
©
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#980 |
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Quote:
A lovely but poignant poem, Musty.
Quote:
Oooops! I missed this yesterday. It makes me grateful to be snugly warm at home.
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#981 |
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Join Date: Jun 2011
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
Thanks all - the cold weather inspired me to re-post the Brontë poem
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#982 |
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Join Date: Nov 2013
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Quote:
The Love That Never Died
I built tall walls and fences Yet still for her I sighed, Removing my defences, The love that never died. No cure has ever righted The lasting wound inside, Detained and unrequited, The love that never died. In dreams we are caressing, Without her I confide She left me with a blessing; The love that never died. © |
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#983 |
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Quote:
It has been quite chilly but keep warm with a hug. (
![]() )Quote:
That is beautiful - she's a lucky girl!
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#984 |
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London Sunday
As chimneys blend with peeling slate The rooftops make a grey lagoon And clouds of purple recreate A Mary Poppins afternoon. From terraces where lives go on Of people who I’ll never know Dark window panes stare down upon Back gardens, cramped and lying low. An idle warehouse seems to snub The world outside, as church bells chime A shabby run-down corner pub Helps Sunday drinkers pass the time. A vacant black embankment seat Dwarfed by the Thames that still remains The indestructible heartbeat Conveying life through London’s veins. © |
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#985 |
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Join Date: Nov 2004
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Quote:
London Sunday
© ![]() "Peeling slate" - poetic licence or do some people paint over them?
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#986 |
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Join Date: Jan 2009
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I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and sky I left my vest and socks there I wonder if they're dry? |
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#987 |
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Quote:
"Peeling slate" - poetic licence or do some people paint over them?
![]() (it might need a re-think)Quote:
I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and sky I left my vest and socks there I wonder if they're dry?
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#988 |
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Quote:
Slate probably doesn't peel, but I needed a term to express its age Biz
(it might need a re-think)![]() Sudden thought! "Aged" - two syllables as in ay jed? |
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#989 |
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Join Date: Nov 2013
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In life there are plenty of ups and downs
Smiles, tears, laughter and frowns Where we go and what we do Depends on more than only you Strangers can hurt you and call you names Friends can hurt you by playing mind games But, stand tall, hold your head up high Don't let them win, don't heave that sigh Know that if you do your very best You'll get past every test You'll find friends that stand by your side And be there for the roller-coaster ride |
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#990 |
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Quote:
Sudden thought! "Aged" - two syllables as in ay jed?
![]() 'As chimneys blend with ageing slate' Quote:
You'll find friends that stand by your side
And be there for the roller-coaster ride Welcome to the thread by the way, or have you posted poems before? We've been going so long, sometimes I lose track a bit
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#991 |
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The Greatest Ever Gurner
Contorting features without shame, He started as a learner But Sidney Kettle soon became The greatest ever gurner. He frightened horses with his smiles, The weirdest face in Matlock; A cross between a moose with piles And Corrie’s Albert Tatlock. All Sidney’s chums would testify And swear upon the Bible His bottom lip could go so high It covered up each eyeball. Such facial flaws did not confine Our hero for a second, For late in nineteen twenty-nine The Gurning World Cup beckoned. He knocked out every twisted moosh And bag of broken spanners Then reached the final at a push Where fans waved scarves and banners. His last opponent loved to stare, A chap called Arthur Menzies Who pulled a face so awful there It shattered camera lenses. But Sidney did a better job, He shocked the gathered numbers By sticking sideways in his gob A leek and three cucumbers. Among the fizzogs that compressed His was the highest earner, Yes Sidney Kettle was the best, The greatest ever gurner. © |
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#992 |
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Quote:
How about a compromise?
![]() 'As chimneys blend with ageing slate' Also great to see new rhymers. ![]() Quote:
The Greatest Ever Gurner©
I'll never forget the Queen's face when she looked at (I think) the champion gurner.
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#993 |
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Quote:
I'll never forget the Queen's face when she looked at (I think) the champion gurner.
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#994 |
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Finding the Mary Celeste
A telescope confirmed her lone existence And tendency to yaw, alerted now They sensed she’d need an offer of assistance But what appeared unsettled them somehow; A vessel sailing badly in the distance Five miles away and on the starboard bow. Deserted decks awaited them and so did A riddle to infuriate and grip, Her cargo full of alcohol was loaded, When casks were damaged on the routine trip Did fear of certain death if they exploded Explain the reason all abandoned ship? How had the crew and vessel come asunder? There wasn’t much to indicate or say, No lightning broke the masts, intent on plunder No pirates took a single thing away And while we puzzle, speculate and wonder The sea retains its secret to this day. © |
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#995 |
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Quote:
Who, Prince Philip?
![]() Quote:
Finding the Mary Celeste
.................................................... And while we puzzle, speculate and wonder The sea retains its secret to this day. ©
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#996 |
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Quote:
Awww! That's not fayer. I was very proud of him on Remembrance Day.
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#997 |
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Quote:
He always drops his wreath roughly on the Cenotaph, which I find disrespectful.
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#998 |
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Quote:
He is a very old man.
![]() The thread's been very quiet of late
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#999 |
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I am the magic bullet
One trigger and to pull it Took vigour on the day, I am the magic bullet That haunts the USA. Shot by a hand so callous, John Kennedy I caught, As panic rose in Dallas The Earth came to a halt. The sniper was a dead-eye, The patsy was marooned, How flattering they said I Caused almost every wound. The facts are rather hazy, That’s why my nickname suits, The path I took was crazy, The oddest of all routes: Into a back and fastly Out from the neck, a twist Performed in mid-air, lastly Through leg and chest and wrist. But on forensics wholly The experts would agree; Each injury was solely Accredited to me. I shook the world as lawless Exhibit 399, Pristine and mainly flawless, No magic equals mine. © |
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#1000 |
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We'll never agree about the royals, but we're civilized - unlike some. ![]() I've had no phone, broadband or internet all day - agony I tell you, agony. Thank goodness it's back. Quote:
The thread's been very quiet of late
![]() ![]() Quote:
I am the magic bullet
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