Sorry to hear about the connection problems. I just thought Musty was working flat out on his book - copying and pasting until the early hours.

Mt. Confusion. (For MrQuike)

In conclusion; the illusion
is all that exists.
Climbing Mount Confusion
way above the mists -
brings me to delusion
that so persists.


Last Shout. (For now.)

Still too soon.
This mortal goon
with shaky head
goes off to bed.

One fine day
to find a way
to spot a lie
and simply try
to explain.

Not to complain.

Seems odd to me;
our destiny
not down to us?
Preposterous
and dangerous.

Then goodnight now,
my aching brow
all worded out.
So my last shout.

Sorry - an ooops moment!!!

I'm certainly confused. MrQuike sounds Dickensish.





My destiny sure worries me. Glad it's not really your last shout - good to see you.

....
Agree with Biz there A. Shout away please, we are few & I see M's unfortunately indisposed.
A slightly controversial tribute to a gay genius IMO follows
if you have the patience to read at length. In rhyming couplets even but modern in tone for all that and all a matter of that old opinion thing. Frank.

Wilde Imagining
!(with adult theme! and possibly controversial POV)

Such a talent you had Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wilde,
you brightened a dull world yet ended in turn defiled.
English Law broke you a gay frail butterfly on a wheel
man love was criminal then Justice to us just so unreal.
A modern take in these enlightened times simply unfair
as you only paid a little attention to a London derrière.

You were subject to dubious morals of strict Victorian rule,
dared to deal with Lord Queensberry as if he were your fool.
Against legal advice you resort to libel based upon a basic lie,
always liable to be caught out in court, no need to query why.

In your Ballad of Reading Gaol a life experience is narrated
the free learn the terrible travail of poor souls incarcerated,
a beautiful simile of the small blue tent prisoners call the sky,
a wife killer awaiting the hanging rope who wistfuly walks by.

Oscar, you loved too well, celebrity deserved with good reason
leaving dullard lordly types unnerved as if that "sin" was treason,
not just the acts of love that dare not speak its name back then,
and those who could not wait like you did act not knowing when
better sense fairness would prevail, and men might marry men.

Queen Victoria denied women wanted inside another's knickers,
now ladies can be married to her wife maybe even by lady vicars.
"A Lesbian?!" snorted QV, imagine in style of OW's Lady Bracknell,
"But what can they possibly do to each other? Pray dear Sir do tell."
"Certain dastardly devices, I believe Maam," says Disraeli ... "ahem."
"What a lot of cock!" HM opined ... "or not strictly" whispered the PM.

So sad to be vilified for something which happened in the womb. Quite a story you told there Frank.

A tolerant view I'd expect Biz, thanks. Frank

Thank you Frank - live and let live eh? The world would be a better place.

An FM. Just one existential verse was all I could manage...


Thanks and; could it ever be? Hook line and sinker, me. Grr.


"Wilde Imagining" is superbly told Frank and ends with some good humour, and thank you for your kind words. Appreciated alot.

I did wonder if he was an FM and did a search, but nothing came up. Come to think of it I probably put a gap in the name, which would explain it.

You know you're welcome to shout whenever you feel like it John.

Not A Great War (tribute to The Tommy)

Beneath the crosses lie the glorious dead
or that was what some no good politician
said. What good this glory ever really did
remains hidden from recipients of gaunt
words per pro His Majesty the King from
an officer of exalted rank in the dreaded
telegram. Alas poor deceased Tommies,
you gave your life for a country's cause,
in other peoples' fights but never yours.
It was not for you a great war that bore
the name who died not knowing what for.

I often find myself reflecting on the horror of being told you've got to leave everything you know and go away to fight, and the heartache of seeing your precious sons snatched away to fight when you know that it isn't in their nature.....and no easier when you see them go eagerly, full of youthful idealism.

You've described the pointlessness so well in a short poem Frank. When will it ever end?

Hi everyone - I'm sitting in a library and it's raining outside Great to see the the poetry flag still flying here! I haven't got time to read everything I'm afraid, as I've only paid for a half an hour's use of the pc

Once I get the hang of this new way of posting, I'll comment on the contributions My own computer's still broke, but the poems are safe and the work continues. I've also written some new material.

Thanks to Dark Star for posting his message too

Speak soon my friends

Hoping you get your computer fixed soon Musty. I agree with your comments on Frank's new one Biz.

Soul Miners.

The moon was waning.
It was raining.
Wind blew from the east.
Windows clattered.
Drips pit pattered,
spoiling the feast.

All those gathered
would have rather
stayed home that night,
but lords of manors
demand manners
as their birth right.

The stories told
about the old
manor house itself,
could not be true.
None could accrue
that kind of wealth.

The howling sound
from underground
beneath the great hall.
Loud thumping
night things bumping
startled one and all
except the lord,
who pulled the chord
which sounded the bell.

Twelve more souls
now dig for coal
to feed the fires of hell.

Steeped in its dubious history this reflects obliquely Archiver to me on exploitation and a creepy payback is hinted, engaging & thanks for the mentions. Good to see Biz as ever and Musty back. Frank

I obviously checked in too early yesterday. Pleased to see you're not caught up in a flood Musty, which I'd rather feared must have happened. See you soon.


Sounds like Satan to me John. I bet we're all wondering these days if there are large caverns lying unseen under our houses, whether grand or modest. (There should be a hair standing on end smilie.)

Still plenty of exploitation to be found Frank.

Hi Biz, Archiver and Frank

I see there's been some great poetry sent in! I'll have more time to read it tomorrow I think. One bonus for you Biz - as I'm forced to use this beautiful library, I can only post during the day. So there'll be no more scary horror poems at night

My next session should be much longer and I'll have time to absorb the new material here. I never rush when I read poetry, I like to savour it. Bye for now everyone

A poem a day
Keeps stagnation at bay

Hi Misty, thank goodness you haven't drowned. As you well know I don't read the scary ones at night, I leave them until the bright morning light dawns. I need my sleep.

See you tomorrow.

I am really enjoying this thread, I love the poem 'Geezer,'brilliant. I did not want to post until I had caught up on everything as I have found this thread fairly recently. I hope it is alright for me to join in.I write a bit and this is just a little one about a daily habit of our cat:

Puss In Snooze

Dear Puss can't you move from up there
Lying comatose across the top stair?
As I gingerly step over you
You stand, I trip and lose a Jimmy Choo.
Suddenly, an ear piercing wail
As now I heavily land, with a thud upon your tail.

I am shocked again by your pussycat din
It sends me right back into a spin.
And now I crunch upon your paws,
Then feel the wrath of those razor sharp claws.

Your swishing tail lets me know you are cross
You shoot me a look which says it is you who is the boss.
Puss, if you must laze about, counting sheep
Find a safe place to curl up and sleep
Because if you lie comatose across the top stair
You'll get stomped and squished beyond repair.

Love it , and I can see your cat, twitching one ear as you read this to him, yawning, and thinking ....whatever!...just be more careful.

Thank you so much flower. I will try, but he's slinky one.

You're very welcome. I think you've captured the cat perfectly. Unfortunately I'm not a cat fan, but Musty is, and he should be here very soon.

Hello Flower - pleased to see you're still visiting.

Hi Archiver Mt. Confusion may refer to an FM, but I really like the imagery in the poem. The tone reminds me a bit of Free, the legendary 70s rock band. Last Shout seems to be another thoughtful ode on the eternal tussle in the mind. Good to see you writing again


Ey oop Frank - Oscar Wilde is a massive hero of mine, so I thoroughly enjoyed your take on his terrible fall. I like the way you wove humour into the sad tale - knickers and vicars is a cracking rhyme! Oscar was a literary genius and at least we appreciate him now. Lord Alfred Douglas, his 'fatal attraction'and Queensberry's son, is buried in my local town.


So many lives lost and the debate still rages over if it was all worthwhile. Either way the price was horrendous - a moving tribute Frank.


First of all I thought this was about Jesus's Disciples. The number twelve pointed me that way. But on further study it seems to be about a recent mining disaster in Africa. I caught a bit of that on the news I think. Another thought-provoking piece Archiver


Hi MrsGoto and welcome to the thread Thanks for the comment on Geezer, I forgot about that one! Puss In Snooze is excellent and it reminded me of the lovely cats that once shared this house. The descriptions of the cat's reactions were so lifelike - I hope you can send in more material some time


Hi Flower


Here I am Biz Marmalade the cat, who belongs to a neighbour, follows me home sometimes!

I haven't got time to post one of my new poems, as the library hour's nearly up

The thread's rocking and I've only caught up on this page - I hope Sandy pops in, it feels like a strong team at the moment. Onwards, ever onwards