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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#1126 |
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Wow!!! Sorry to hear that Lynne - it would disturb the sleep of anyone. Thank goodness it wasn't successful.
Thankfully, I have two dogs, one soppy retriever and one mixed breed terrier. Guess who is the boss? ![]() She barked during the early hours of that morning, though I thought at that time that it was the neighbours coming home and it wasn't until the morning when I opened my back door and found it wide open (It is literally outside my back door as my garden runs lengthwise to my home) that I realised someone had tried to break in) As I turned around there was a bent screwdriver on my window sill and I could see where they had tried to prise (sp) the window open. Only later did I hear that a young lady had been held at gunpoint (I think that this is the right expression) in her own home whist these awful people robbed her. She lives less than half a mile from me so this concerned me somewhat. The city in which I live is wonderful with such history and is usually one of the few cities that has suffered from gun crime, though it now appears to be moving away from the 'big' cities to the outskirts of London/Birmingham and other Cities. The police have been marvellous though they cannot be here 24/7 as such. Actually, they have been here today to tell me that they are stepping up their controls of the area. We (my neighbours and I) have never known so many attempted burglaries and I have lived here for over 22 years now. They tell me that they have suspects to interview as many other people have given descriptions in nearby areas/villages. They also told me not to worry as the burglars (another old fashioned word) do not normally attempt to enter a property where they were unsuccessful the first time. All good news . Lynne x |
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#1127 |
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It's good news that the police are onto it, but so awful that it's necessary. That poor girl, what a shocking experience for her.
Your terrier sounds as if she's a good guard dog, and the police's reassurance is comforting. Here's to a good night's sleep Lynne.
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#1128 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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A Windy Cornish Cove
I swapped a warming tavern for The Cornish climate fresh and raw, I walked a night devoid of moon, Aware the beach would calm me soon. I turned a cottage corner and Came to that lonely strip of sand I call my secret heart’s retreat, Where starfishes and rock-pools meet. I always find the windswept bay Speaks of Daphne DuMaurier And seagull songs above the coast Paint pictures of Rebecca’s ghost. I knew my fantasy was nigh; When hands of midnight gripped the sky Imagination surged unbound, Transformed the cove and all around. As I dreamt of a coming threat Dead seaweed glistened dark and wet, Wild smugglers with illegal stock Were steering in their ship to dock. They’d tackled the Atlantic foam Spurred on by weary thoughts of home, With lantern beams supplying light Their battered vessel pierced the night. From my short glimpse of coastal crime I came back to the present time; What visions touch me when I rove Down to a windy Cornish cove. © |
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#1129 |
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Thank you Biz for your remarks re the attempted break in that happened roughly two and a half weeks ago now.
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#1130 |
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My memories of the sea
will never leave me. I sat and stared at the waves, my soul I once thought it craves. I thought it knew me, more than me, and held my thoughts within the sea. |
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#1131 |
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I thought it knew me, more than me,
and held my thoughts within the sea. |
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#1132 |
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How beautiful Flower, I feel the same about the sea. Some poems touch your soul and this exquisite one did for me.
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#1133 |
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Join Date: Mar 2011
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Quiet times.
Where did they go? a time to think alone in the snow. A time to read without the tele, an Ipad or someone with an empty belly? I watch my grandkids, see them smile, hope they have quiet as they walk their mile. To appreciate the quiet things, a dragonfly with exquisite wings |
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#1134 |
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át last
If you don't mind, I would like to copy and paste the lovely poems to a folder on my pc. I can then read them again without having to log on.
The sea. Does anyone here have favourite words as such? I was wondering as I have a few that are related to the sea. The Cornish poem reminded me of times with my young children and our lovely holidays searching with them in the rock pools. Rebecca is one of my favourite books and I remember being so surprised when I found out many years ago that she had written a short story that eventually became the film' Don't look back' with Julie Christie. Respectfully, I wonder if anyone could write about the cold, windy shore of the North Sea? This was 30 feet from my home in oh, 169-1973. it was grey, cold, windy, flooded (so sorry to the poster that has suffered from these awful floods) but fantastic for walking the dogs and playing with the children even if it were cold and uninviting. The vastness of the sky was amazing even in winter and to have the beach to myself and family in the winter months was great. Lynne x |
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#1135 |
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Quote:
The Cornish poem reminded me of times with my young children and our lovely holidays searching with them in the rock pools.
I read more fact than fiction, but Daphne DuMaurier is far and away my favourite novelist. Don't Look Back has one of the most terrifying endings in cinema and it doesn't seem like DuMaurier's work. But she had a very dark side, as The Birds and Rebecca testify. I couldn't put down Jamaica Inn and The House On The Strand is fascinating too, as it involves time travel. Her imagery has inspired me to make poems on Cornwall more dramatic.I'm glad you're putting some of the contributions here into a folder. As for the North Sea poem, I have one on the old BBC shipping forecast and I'll search my files for empty beaches. I'm sure I've done a few as I love them ![]() Quote:
I don't think we are alone in this mustard, I think many have pondered whilst watching and listening to the waves.....tis a shame that many dismiss it as 'Naff'
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Quiet times.
To appreciate the quiet things, a dragonfly with exquisite wings |
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#1136 |
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Amazingly, this thread's been going for just over six years! It's even survived the horrible DS make-over
![]() A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE WHO READS, POSTS COMMENTS OR WRITES POETRY HERE ![]() A poem a day Keeps stagnation at bay
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#1137 |
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And a Happy New Year from me too Musty. My wish for 2014 is that the occasional (and new)posters will join in more often, not post a few times then disappear.
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#1138 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
Amazingly, this thread's been going for just over six years! It's even survived the horrible DS make-over
![]() A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE WHO READS, POSTS COMMENTS OR WRITES POETRY HERE ![]() A poem a day Keeps stagnation at bay ![]() Happy New Year to all ![]() I hope you have a great New Year Musty, don't have too many tipples ![]() I let a party popper go earlier, it went quite a distance.
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#1139 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Biz
My wish for 2014 is that the occasional (and new)posters will join in more often, not post a few times then disappear.
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#1140 |
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May I take this opportunity to wish you all A VERY HEALTHY AND HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Once again, thank you all so much for your welcome. Lynne, Dogs, Cats and mouse/mice that have taken residence in my old Kitchen cupboard. Humane traps do not work as it/they have circumnavigated the trap and the food has gone.. ![]() Plan B? |
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#1141 |
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Happy New Year Sandy and Lynne.
![]() Plan B - put cat(s) in kitchen cupboard for the night? |
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#1142 |
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Join Date: Jun 2012
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Trust
I give you my crystal-thin trust. Hold it tight. Keep it safe. Here’s my love, as rich as beaten gold. Float it on your breath. I give you my heart, nerve-raw, blood-flushed. Clutch it to your breast. Feel it pulse. Here’s my soul, a web of my being. Wrap it round your neck. Keep the tension right. Here’s my life. Bind it to your body. Bear the weight. You’re the keeper now of my hopes, my dreams, ambitions, emotions, future. Hold out your arms. Take the load. Now hold out your finger. Take the gold. |
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#1143 |
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Ode To A Pint Of Boddingtons
Oh, honey-hued glass Of Irwell’s finest draught Let me feel your weight in my hand. Fresh, Newly pourn, You take the shape of your vessel And gloriously cover yourself With a soft, foaming crown. My lowering lips penetrate your creamed whiteness And release your bitter-sweet golden flow Between my lips, Into my mouth And down over my tongue. I lay you down. Your head is broken, The glass is stained, Your perfection gone. Never again will I hold your full, pure, untouched form in my hand. Never again will I have that first, forbidden thrill And never again will I taste your pure, hidden love. Until the hand on the pump Fills the glass again. |
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#1144 |
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Quote:
Happy New Year Sandy and Lynne.
![]() Plan B - put cat(s) in kitchen cupboard for the night? xx Cats are old now, No chance Plan C? LOL (is anyone here having trouble logging on tonight?) |
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#1145 |
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Ode To A Pint Of Boddingtons
Oh, honey-hued glass Of Irwell’s finest draught Let me feel your weight in my hand. Fresh, Newly pourn, You take the shape of your vessel And gloriously cover yourself With a soft, foaming crown. My lowering lips penetrate your creamed whiteness And release your bitter-sweet golden flow Between my lips, Into my mouth And down over my tongue. I lay you down. Your head is broken, The glass is stained, Your perfection gone. Never again will I hold your full, pure, untouched form in my hand. Never again will I have that first, forbidden thrill And never again will I taste your pure, hidden love. Until the hand on the pump Fills the glass again. Lynne |
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#1146 |
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[quote=mr. mustard;70548116]Thanks Lynne, it's nice when a poem re-kindles good memories
I read more fact than fiction, but Daphne DuMaurier is far and away my favourite novelist. Don't Look Back has one of the most terrifying endings in cinema and it doesn't seem like DuMaurier's work. But she had a very dark side, as The Birds and Rebecca testify. I couldn't put down Jamaica Inn and The House On The Strand is fascinating too, as it involves time travel. Her imagery has inspired me to make poems on Cornwall more dramatic.Thank you for informing me about the other books which I have not read. Tomorrow I shall search the Book Depository to see if they are available. It is the very first sentence that draws the reader in, isn't it. My Husband , myself and children visited Jamaica Inn in the 1980's. It was lovely to see where she had written, though I cannot remember which book. Was it Jamaica Inn? ( ha ha.- Of course it was LOL) duh ! I'm glad you're putting some of the contributions here into a folder. As for the North Sea poem, I have one on the old BBC shipping forecast and I'll search my files for empty beaches. I'm sure I've done a few as I love them ![]() Thank you. Lynne (skyping with my daughter now as she is in America) Last edited by lah1 : 01-01-2014 at 00:36. Reason: Brain unengaged . |
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#1147 |
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Join Date: Mar 2009
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Quote:
Trust
I give you my crystal-thin trust. Hold it tight. Keep it safe. Here’s my love, as rich as beaten gold. Float it on your breath. I give you my heart, nerve-raw, blood-flushed. Clutch it to your breast. Feel it pulse. Here’s my soul, a web of my being. Wrap it round your neck. Keep the tension right. Here’s my life. Bind it to your body. Bear the weight. You’re the keeper now of my hopes, my dreams, ambitions, emotions, future. Hold out your arms. Take the load. Now hold out your finger. Take the gold. Lynne x |
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#1148 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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And a Happy New Year from me too Musty. My wish for 2014 is that the occasional (and new)posters will join in more often, not post a few times then disappear.
![]() The down side of 2013 for me was losing Frank and Archiver. Their poetry displayed completely different styles but I enjoyed both. Two voices that I miss.Quote:
Musty, you should get a DS honour for keeping the thread going strong
![]() I liked your party popper The head barman tried to chuck everyone out, karaoke and all, just after midnight last night! Luckily, the landlady overruled him and did a duet of Pearl's A Singer and All That Jazz Who said Girl Power was dead?
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#1149 |
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Trust
Now hold out your finger. Take the gold. Quote:
Ode To A Pint Of Boddingtons
Oh, honey-hued glass Of Irwell’s finest draught If only Keats and the Romantics had lightened up a bit, we might have had poems like this as well as their heavy side. I love the 'before and after' effect in this, with the glass being full then empty. Thanks for kicking off 2014 with pure talent Scottie
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#1150 |
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My Husband , myself and children visited Jamaica Inn in the 1980's.
I forgot to mention My Cousin Rachel, which is a haunting Daphne Dumaurier book with dark shades of Rebecca. |
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