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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4)
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sandydune
07-11-2014
Originally Posted by IzzyS:
“Funnily enough I saw it shine through my curtains this evening, thats what prompted it *quelle surprise* ”

quelle surprise, so french.
IzzyS
07-11-2014
Originally Posted by sandydune:
“quelle surprise, so french.”

Mais oui!
sandydune
07-11-2014
Originally Posted by IzzyS:
“Mais oui! ”

Alors, I saw the moon tonight
scottie2121
07-11-2014
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.
sandydune
07-11-2014
scottie2121, you love your boddingtons
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Originally Posted by sandydune:
“Musty, that's not a poem of mine.”

Oops
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Originally Posted by scottie2121:
“And gloriously cover yourself
With a soft, foaming crown.”

Some brewery ought to use this in an ad campaign - I can imagine John Hurt reciting it

I enjoyed this just as much as when it was first posted
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Originally Posted by wizzywick:
“Another cracking poem musty. ”

Ta Wizzy

Originally Posted by wizzywick:
“Celebrations”

Great write Wizzy - carpe diem is a good philosophy to live by
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Originally Posted by IzzyS:
“The Moon In The Dark of Night”

I really enjoyed this Izzy - the moon is very inspirational in my opinion. Your poem captured its essence and I liked the optimism you expressed concerning dark winter nights.
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Love and Fish and Chips

I never shall forget Natasha Callum,
Like Helen, an immortal beauty queen,
The face that launched a thousand chips in Balham,
Which isn't Troy, but you know what I mean.

On Friday nights I'd go down to the chippie
To worship her, the girl who stole my heart,
Natasha wore a lovely shade of lippie
And serving fish she made into an art.

No words of wisdom ever could have cured me,
Had she been out with many other boys?
Was it the way she shovelled cod that lured me
Or just the contour of her saveloys?

To break the ice would need the greatest caution,
A chat-up line is awkward when you're near
A goddess who is wrapping up a portion
And there's a queue behind you that can hear.

I wondered if she felt the same desire,
For every time I gazed into her eyes
She focussed on the chips inside the fryer
Or walked away towards the mushroom pies.

I hid my admiration, thus ensuring
I never heard 'I love you' come from Nat,
The only thing she said to me was boring;
'Do you want salt and vinegar with that?'

Then I was told by my mate Sidney Perkins
Some shocking news about my English rose;
Disgruntled with the haddock, plaice and gherkins,
She'd swapped them for a job at Rumbelows.

Natasha didn't leave me feeling jaded,
Although I missed her curves and luscious lips,
I ask myself today, now passion's faded
Was I in love with her or fish and chips?


©
mr. mustard
08-11-2014
Originally Posted by sandydune:
“after you went
came the afterthought”

Lovely Sandy
IzzyS
09-11-2014
Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“I really enjoyed this Izzy - the moon is very inspirational in my opinion. Your poem captured its essence and I liked the optimism you expressed concerning dark winter nights.”

Thanks Mr. Mustard I didn't think it was one of my better ones but it was nice to write something.
mr. mustard
11-11-2014
Solitude

O solitude you are to me
A shelter from the storm,
Come solitude, my sanctuary,
Reveal your silent form.

In younger years I'd seek a glen
Or some remote domain
To give me what I needed when
I could no more remain

In crowded halls where every voice
Intruded as it yelled;
The rural fields became my choice,
Where peace and quiet dwelled.

To find a tree with cooling shade
Through meadows I would roam,
Regarding how the sparrows played
From my secluded home.

Sometimes I'd glimpse a butterfly
Who from the world was hid,
With no one there to utter why
Or question what I did.

And as the evening reached its end
And daylight slowly fled,
I watched an orange sun descend
Into a sea of red.

My solitude's a lovely cape
Of finest velvet cloth
To wear whenever I escape
Until I take it off.


©
IzzyS
11-11-2014
What Do We Hide? by IzzyS

Do you see me,
as I truly am?
can I see you,
for who you are?.

What is real and what is fake,
smoke screens, masquerades, facially and embodied representations
of whats yearned, imagined, projected,
the me I'm encouraged to be,
the me I want to be,
but what about the genuine me?.

Are we all but actors
or are we true to ourselves?.

Can we ever acknowledge those parts of us, so doubting,
so negative, annoyed, frustrated and disappointed,
yet also fundamental reminders of our humanity,
proof of what we are,
'warts and all' but some hidden more than others,
is it weak of us to overlook what is frowned upon?.

Is honesty more painful than self censorship?
or can we only help improve ourselves
by laying all our cards on the table,
accept me as I am, is this how it should be?
how can we know, who we disclose our innermost thoughts to,
perhaps they hide more than we realise?
They say you can't judge a book by its cover,
yet as people we're programmed to judge one another,
as if instinctually, upon first meeting,
its a strange world really, isn't it?.

So once again I can't help but wonder,
what do we hide away -
how will we ever know for sure?.
droogiefret
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by IzzyS:
“What Do We Hide? by IzzyS

Do you see me,
as I truly am?
can I see you,
for who you are?.

What is real and what is fake,
smoke screens, masquerades, facially and embodied representations
of whats yearned, imagined, projected,
the me I'm encouraged to be,
the me I want to be,
but what about the genuine me?.

Are we all but actors
or are we true to ourselves?.

Can we ever acknowledge those parts of us, so doubting,
so negative, annoyed, frustrated and disappointed,
yet also fundamental reminders of our humanity,
proof of what we are,
'warts and all' but some hidden more than others,
is it weak of us to overlook what is frowned upon?.

Is honesty more painful than self censorship?
or can we only help improve ourselves
by laying all our cards on the table,
accept me as I am, is this how it should be?
how can we know, who we disclose our innermost thoughts to,
perhaps they hide more than we realise?
They say you can't judge a book by its cover,
yet as people we're programmed to judge one another,
as if instinctually, upon first meeting,
its a strange world really, isn't it?.

So once again I can't help but wonder,
what do we hide away -
how will we ever know for sure?.”

Oh I like that Izzy! Lovely and measured.

Quote:
“They say you can't judge a book by its cover,
yet as people we're programmed to judge one another,”

I love those two lines - beautiful, flowing and with a point that gets under the skin.

Thank you For some reason it reminded me of an old poem of mine that I'll copy below.
droogiefret
13-11-2014
An old one from me.

Goose Flight

What's the use in trying
the tried and trusted ways?
I could learn to be a waiter
I'd wait a thousand years.

There's a way to be downhearted
and a way to be set free
They say that geese fly in formation to the sun.

Ooo ......
There must be something I can say to you. But .....
I'm trying my heart here - and
Ooo ...
There must be something but I'm still not sure ....

Sunlight on the Sea.

----------------------------------------
mr. mustard
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by IzzyS:
“What Do We Hide?”

Maybe it feels safer - as John lennon said, You've Got To Hide Your Love Away.

Great write Izzy
mr. mustard
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by droogiefret:
“Goose Flight”

Another enjoyable contribution to the thread Droogie - I like the metaphor of the goose suggesting conformity
mr. mustard
13-11-2014
Moonsong

This satellite of Earth, this orb we know
Brings reassurance with its changing faces,
Above and faraway, ever aglow,
Conducting tides in their eternal races,
Within the dark and restless undertow
A shining beacon where an empty space is.

The dead Sea of Tranquillity reminds
How nothing can exist, from the equator
Across a barren landscape different kinds
Of scars reveal the impact of each crater,
A silent ruined citadel that binds
The magic of the plains and makes them greater.

O venerated sister of the sun,
Beyond our planet so obsessed with winning,
When we are dust and all is said and done
You'll stay as you were back at the beginning;
The luminous exotic silver one,
Amid infinity, a goddess spinning.


©
IzzyS
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by droogiefret:
“Oh I like that Izzy! Lovely and measured.



I love those two lines - beautiful, flowing and with a point that gets under the skin.

Thank you For some reason it reminded me of an old poem of mine that I'll copy below.”

Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“Maybe it feels safer - as John lennon said, You've Got To Hide Your Love Away.

Great write Izzy ”

Thank you both its a shame (if) people feel that way.
IzzyS
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by droogiefret:
“An old one from me.

Goose Flight

What's the use in trying
the tried and trusted ways?
I could learn to be a waiter
I'd wait a thousand years.

There's a way to be downhearted
and a way to be set free
They say that geese fly in formation to the sun.

Ooo ......
There must be something I can say to you. But .....
I'm trying my heart here - and
Ooo ...
There must be something but I'm still not sure ....

Sunlight on the Sea.

----------------------------------------”

Thats very thought provoking. I like the analogy - I wish I was flying into the sun, literally and not so literally. Its getting too chilly and wintery here *grumbles* lol thanks for sharing
droogiefret
13-11-2014
Originally Posted by mr. mustard:
“Another enjoyable contribution to the thread Droogie - I like the metaphor of the goose suggesting conformity ”

Ah - good spot! It's a bit self aggrandising to explain your own poems .... but just in case you're interested.

Spoiler
Yep geese in flight is a metaphor for conformity - the tried and trusted ways - that don't get you anywhere.

Except that the geese do migrate don't they? So they do get somewhere. And, even more to the point, the sight of geese in flight is beautiful. So maybe it's not about what you do but on your attitude of mind. You can conform and still find the sun.

So there's a tension between the ideas - the feeling that you are almost on the verge of understanding something but not quite sure what it is or how to express it. What do we need to actually do? Something unique or something that was already known?

And then, unlooked for and unexpected, release comes in awareness of pure beauty that requires no action of any kind - sunlight on the sea. Well - that's what I was aiming for anyway
IzzyS
13-11-2014
This is a little random but reading about geese in flight, I couldn't help but think of this film - http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116329/
wizzywick
13-11-2014
Some great pieces of poetry in this thread today. Izzy, your poem touched a nerve with me. I've felt the way you describe in your writing. Musty, where do you store your inspiration? I loved Moonsong, I found it calming. So many different subjects you write about! You must be a library of knowledge. Thank you all for sharing.

Here's one from me. It's something a bit seasonal as we swiftly head towards advent.


WHEN DECEMBER COMES


When December comes the world shines.
Smiles on faces are renewed and glow.
Emotions and joy that somehow entwines
Moments and magic with glistening snow.

Love is strong as the happiness around
Gathers hope into the coldest heart.
The air is filled with a silent sound
That crescendos when Christmas will start

This is the end of another long year
The time when demons are cast to the night.
The days when sorrow is replaced by cheer
And darkness is brightened by light.

When the saviour’s birth is remembered once more
And the message of peace is rife,
Embrace to your heart the ones you adore
Your husband, your children, your wife.

When December comes, the world will freeze
But will be warmed by the brightest of star.
An ancient story, carried on a magical breeze
From Bethlehem afar.

As Christmas departs and the calendar turns,
Your future will start to look clear.
The happy thoughts that your glad heart yearns
Wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

(c) 2014
mr. mustard
18-11-2014
Originally Posted by wizzywick:
“WHEN DECEMBER COMES
”

What a lovely uplifting poem! I'd like to see this re-posted near or on the big day, it'd really suit the mood.

Thanks for sharing this Wizzy
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