Ta Izzy

Other than ourselves, presumably - unless there's something I don't know

Thanks

Really ?

I hope that dosnt mean that you are dead Mr Mustard or if you get published will that preclude you from posting?

It's a funny old world

To explain the full regulations, even poems sent in by dead poets such as Blake and Byron have to contain their dates of birth and death. The mods told me all this in private after I failed to get the trolls' attack reversed.

Oh dear, and I posted Ivor poems. Well he is dead.

Ivor half a mind to report you *ahem* just kidding!

The Citadel of Sleep

You're leaving consciousness behind
And sinking to the deep,
As deep as roots beneath the trees,
As deep as Lord Poseidon's seas,
The Citadel of Sleep.

You melt away from what's defined
Then enter slumber's door,
As rationale begins to end
There is nobody to attend,
To give instructions or

Stop you from falling through the void
But here there's no mishap,
A vortex and a comfort too,
A road to nowhere just for you,
A journey with no map.

Although the mind is absent now
Emotions are not gone,
In restless pictures they break free
And make the weird tales that you see,
In dreams they carry on.

This block suspending you in time,
This unknown castle keep.
You haven't moved an inch and yet
You're present where no foot has set:
The Citadel of Sleep.


©

Very good, quite evocative thanks for sharing.

Thanks Izzy - see you soon my friends

Thank you, and those kind words of encouragement coming from yourself mean a lot!

I did chuckle when I read the rules claiming we're not allowed to publish poems by living poets. All of us must be dead!! A living poet doesn't have to be a published poet, just a poet who is living! Don't you just love trolls?

Well, what constitutes as a published poem? One that is available in the British library or one that is self published and recognised and available to buy in a self published book?

Now I've found this thread, it deserves bumping! Bump!

When you say Jane Fonda, do you mean Barbarella? funny, great movie, inquistitive conversation

A copyrighted work in a book I think Wizzy. Before the ban, it was a great way on here of discovering 20th century poets I'd never heard of Never mind, the trolls won the battle, but lost the war!


Ta Wizzy


Yes Sandy - her image in the film suited the poem I thought

The Siren's Song

The recent storm had lifted
And now the sun lay deep,
Off course my ship had drifted
As daytime fell asleep.

I watched a seagull winging
At liberty and free,
Then heard enchanted singing;
A siren called to me.

Despite all my reverses
Her words became a guide,
So sensual were the verses
I left my home, the tide.

As gentle winds were sweeping
The sand that glimmered there,
A golden clasp was keeping
A seashell in her hair.

Though every one of her maids
Wore dresses they had spun,
The princess of the mermaids
Stood naked in the sun.

At night I dreamt heart-broken
Of vessels in distress;
She waited till I'd woken
To lie close and caress.

It seemed a million light years
Since last I did belong,
She kissed away my sad tears
Then healed them with a song.

And if the gods had seen us
While watching from above,
They would have said that Venus
Had found her earthly love.


©

Have the trolls won?
had their day of fun?
picking issues in the poetry thread,
they can but try but we're not yet dead
and so instead,
I say keep; keeping on,
a poem here,
a poem there,
there'll be poetry everywhere
but by who?
by me and by you -
perhaps we are if in part amateurs
read between the lines,
there are no slurs,
only real attempts
to create decent pieces of work,
with the hope they may make you smirk

What do you think? that came totally off the top of my head (well, rather that than the middle of it hehe). I'm a bit delirious with a headcold right now but nonetheless, im quite impressed with that lol oh heck.

Nice one Izzy In truth, the trollery happened a long time ago and it's nice and serene here now

Hope your cold gets better

Yes it seems so. Thank you!

From Here to There and Back Again

It is a feeling of security that keeps you safe in here,
It is where you want to be, you are content, without a fear.
Familiar faces by your side and things you love and know,
Only circumstances you can't control make you up and go.
Like a magical kaleidoscope you shift yourself around,
From the safety of your armchair, to a place with lots of sound.
Your colours merge into one, you become a chameleon in the day,
Circumstance and situation escort you on your way.

You're invisible to the world , no one knows you're even there
They spend their lives in insular shells without a moment's care.
A bustling place that is beyond your aura, a planet for those who speed,
As they whizz around in self indulgent mode in their private world of greed.
Rules are made, you're a robot, you head away from the sun,
You become a number, one of them, part of everyone.
Your mind is busy rebooting, it is part of a routine.
That everyone's experienced, that everybody's seen.

But soon the time marches on, and your plug is taken out,
You head away like a broken toy, from the faceless all about.
There is a place you do not like but you have to obey the rules
For it is expected for each of us to perform like obedient fools.
Before you know it you're here again, the place you like to go,
The safety of familiar things and the faces you've grown to know.
Your kaleidoscope has been put in its box, you charge your batteries up,
Then you smile, sit down, relax and drink from your favourite cup.

For now you are but normal, you feel safe in your warm cocoon.
As you enjoy the daylight that once more will be gone again quite soon.
Here is the place you like to call home, sanity's haven and more,
You never appreciate what you have until you want some more!
From here to there and back again is the journey of life we take,
The world outside your safe cocoon is desperate and fake.
A kaleidoscope of colour, a self indulgent quest,
Reminds us one and all, that home is the place that's best!

(c)

One, I think we can all relate to. The rat race that is known as life!

I just wrote another poem

Slave to Technology

Gadgets, devices, electronics,
everywhere you look there's something -
something new, flashy and enticing,
a new item to sap away your time,
your precious moments, life drains away so quickly
when you rely on screens,
become a slave to technology.
Tell me what it is, that we learn
from said items, how do we progress
as a communicative species - are we not shackled,
allowing such items to entertain us, we lose our own gift,
our gift of inventiveness, of creativity, of potential,
our need to reach out, to be at one with another -
no middle ground, no body language, only words
but words on a screen, or pixellated images you can only see but not 'reach' -
is this what we've come to?
is this really progress?.
What next for the evolution of the species, if we're to lose the art of reaching out,
hiding behind the ever growing range of items us humans invented,
for the benefit of whom ultimately? .
Are we not suffering slowly from this decay,
will we realise in time,
when we pass on the streets, head down checking our phone screens,
without even noticing our fellow man.

Is Anything Guaranteed?

Is anything ever guaranteed,
in this busy old world of ours -
lifes lived with tremendous highs,
and sudden dipping lows,
the uncertainties choke me,
what will be? what will be?

Lone Voice

Lone voice be heard,
lone voice be recognised,
you are worthy,
you are justified,
no-one can take your importance away -
the louder others talk, the more I see,
how important it is to me,
to slow down and compose my thoughts,
create the voice my feelings crave,
an escape route for emotions.
Maybe I'm not like you,
perhaps I'm cautious beyond necessity,
fears and judgements providing a barrier,
vocalising the truth is an all important tool,
lone voice may be,
take heed, for they may have an important message
and perhaps if the day ever arrived,
when we were all true to ourselves,
we would then discover that lone voice,
isn't so lone, after all.

Wow - there's a lot to read Hopefully I can catch up on everything after i've posted my poem

Guy the Gorilla

For us London Zoo was a thriller
And one animal topped the rest;
We had to see Guy the gorilla,
Yes, Guy the gorilla was best.

Excited by stories and rumours,
In such an excitable state
I bypassed the penguins and pumas,
To see him I just couldn't wait.

Expecting a loud voice that thundered
Like King Kong's, I watched and yet Guy
Seemed bored by the people that wondered
And now I believe I know why:

He'd been captured as a mere baby
In Cameroon where his kind roam
And I think instinctively maybe
He longed for his old jungle home.

Paraded in front of the nation,
The ape's popularity grew
But twenty-five years' isolation
Eroded his dignity too.

A mate was invited for breeding,
Yet with so much time on his own
The scheme had no hope of succeeding,
For Guy preferred being alone.

I witnessed him solemnly drinking,
Let down by the absence of rage
I walked away free and unthinking
While he lingered on in his cage.

If small birds by chance ever entered
Through bars he would give a sad smile;
O Guy you were never self-centred
But man made your life a long trial.


©

I certainly related to this Wizzy! An excellent write - an epic that sums up the 'comfort zone' of modern life. I try to opt out of it, but it's impossible to completely. Thankfully, I'm regarded as eccentric. To me that's a compliment