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Is Poetry a Dead Art? (Part 4) |
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#2301 |
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Forum Member
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
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Vincent van Gogh
His early works were bleak studies of peasants, Observing rural poverty alone, An artist with a solitary presence Who captured every melancholy tone. Then other subjects we can see his hand shape, Becoming clear and brighter all the while; The wooden fishing boats and harvest landscape, The woman at the table with a smile. A café where the customers are drinking Beneath a stunning network of white stars, A boiling sun of orange slowly sinking, Sunflowers gathered in a china vase. The home portrayed with brilliant walls of yellow, The pipe he loved to smoke and chair for ease, Those cypress trees so beautiful and mellow I almost hear them rustling on the breeze. But mental illness left him torn and tainted, A bandage soaked in blood, an angry snarl, He had to go away yet still he painted The courtyard of the hospital in Arles. Depicted as a vivid raging ocean, The cornfield was a sign the end was nigh And crows above it causing a commotion Predicted what would come in hot July. O Vincent with a gun you chose to sever The loneliness, to heaven you were hurled Quite unaware we'd celebrate forever The way you saw the beauty of the world. © |
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#2302 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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Quote:
Hey little
strange world
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#2303 |
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Forum Member
Join Date: Nov 2006
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Cessna 9 to Base
'I'm not sure what I've got, Bright as a supernova In front of me it shot, Is traffic busy? Over.' 'Is that you Cessna 9? I can give confirmation Night skies are clear and fine, What's your exact location?' 'Five thousand feet no more, As I was making my way A massive shape I saw Speed fast above the highway.' 'I copy that, stand by, Is it some plane you know there? Can you identify Or is a UFO there?' 'A light glowed red and green So fast I couldn't scan it! If that was a machine It wasn't from this planet.' 'Our sensors show no sign Of anything enormous, You'd best land Cessna 9, Come in and then inform us.' 'Above again I see The thing is going slower, It's far too close to me, My god it's getting lower!' 'The line is not intact, You're breaking up, there's hissing, I've lost radar contact, Come in, have you gone missing?' 'They've taken me inside....' © |
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#2304 |
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Join Date: Jun 2011
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
I enjoyed this Sandy - it reminded me of the song Little Earth by Kate Bush
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#2305 |
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Join Date: May 2006
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Quote:
Nice one Izzy
You pointed out the endless options that are available to anyone writing poetry. One of the strengths of this thread is the sheer range of topics covered.Nice to see we've hit 80,000 views by the way ![]() I was trying to think what to write about initially and then I suppose I thought 'why not write about not being sure what to write about'
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#2306 |
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Join Date: Jun 2012
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Quote:
Great write Scottie - a new spin on vampirism! I'd like to meet her
![]() She's a pain in the neck! |
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#2307 |
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Join Date: Jun 2012
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Split
There’s blood in the tracks of her tears – seeping thick raw. Bloodied weeping madonna – eyes salted iron-ore-red. And inside - split torn apart. - you – you say - you’ve put a knife through my heart – you say - but I love you – you say - will we ever make love again – you say Monotone words falling from your slack mouth. Web thin. You’re in a place I could never be. Life melting, spreading out over a cracked floor. |
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#2308 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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Carry On Kenneth
Raucous cackled leering Sid, The pay was rather paltrey, Fond of Hattie; God forbid The thought of Charlie Hawtrey. Acting in the films you hate As minor stars get bigger, Sickened when you contemplate Your worthless face and figure. Mangelwurzel round the Horne, At one more dreary soirée Dish the insults and the scorn Encoded in Palare; Comb your riah, gaze at boys And when you feel frustration Have the 'Barclays', sexual joys Are dead despite temptation. Everyone's a crashing bore Except your mum, it's noted Lou sits in the front row for Her son and stays devoted, Loneliness was always there, Did longing in the closet Hurt as you played solitaire, O Kenneth please, what was it? In a restaurant rejoice And smash the rules that cage us, Flare the nostrils, raise the voice, Proceed to act outrageous, Make them plead for more until They're crying tears of laughter, Catch the instant of a thrill, The empty flat comes after. Bitch about the nation's health, Read endless books on culture, Acid-toned despise yourself And every liberal vulture; Gleeful at the great divide Accept death's steely bayonet, Grateful go with suicide, Leave diaries to explain it. © |
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#2309 |
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Quote:
She's a pain in the neck!
![]() Quote:
Great write Scottie - I liked the rhythym of the 'you say' section in the middle
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#2310 |
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Quote:
Kate Bush, she's a lovely singer, also very expressive visually.
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#2311 |
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Join Date: Nov 2004
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my goodness you guys have posted some cracking poems over the past few days. I have been busy finishing my book "A Gift For Christmas" which contains a handful of festive poems, including the Advent poem WHEN DECEMBER COMES which was posted on here a few pages back. I did say I'd post this again here during December, so here goes:
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 I am also happy to share another one with you. I am concerned that the purpose and meaning of Christmas is lost amongst the hustle and bustle of commercialism. Christmas has become about beating up other shoppers to get a cheap telly, so I have focused on the Christmas story which is about as magical and festive as you can get. So, for you all, I present the brand new poem Light of the Stable. LIGHT OF THE STABLE The night air was cool, not a cloud in the sky, And hundreds of precious sheep passed by. Shepherds were seated upon the rocky ground And heavenly glory shone all around. The shepherds were startled, they were afraid, Of this unusual music the angel had made. It had no melody and it wasn't a song, But its infectious sound was powerful and strong. The good news had come, the saviour was born And was placed in a cowshed all meek and forlorn. He was to teach all mankind the way And so it became the first Christmas Day! "Go to Bethlehem, it is not very far! Guide yourselves by the light of the star! You will find the saviour in paupers wear, Hurry! Go and worship him there!" Sang the Angel, before ascending above And the world and the shepherds were adorned with love So, the Shepherds did as the Angel desired, They journey'd to Bethl'em, confused and tired. It is known that at the time of the birth, A beautiful star shone down to the earth. And following its light were three wise kings A wondrous gift each one of them brings. The star light stopped over a tumbledown shed, Inside the holy babe was resting his head. Laying in a manger, all wondrous and pure, When shepherds came peering through the stable door. "We have come to worship him" one did say, And they all gathered around and started to pray. They blessed the child and with love as a prize The star made daylight out of dark night skies. The three kings came, the babe did not stir, They gave gold, frankinscence and myrrh. And soon the babe was worshiped by most, In the name of The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost. And two thousand years of time has gone by We remember the star shining up in the sky, We remember the shepherds, the wise men three We remember the poor and the wandering free. They all came to worship, they gave more than were able As they were blessed with love by the light of the stable. And as Christmas Day comes around once more, Let's try to remember what it's all for. (c) 2014. Taken from my book "A Gift For Christmas". Finally, musty I'm really pleased for you that you have nearly completed a book. If you would care to PM me when it's ready I'd be more than happy, and infact, excited, to purchase a copy. For Christmas Day I will post a third and final poem from my book called, quite fittingly, "On Christmas Morning". I am glad to see you guys are all well. |
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#2312 |
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Forum Member
Join Date: Dec 2004
Location: Closed
Posts: 7,796
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Daft Prophet.
All soft as velvet cushion land. As pampered as a prophet. Free pamphlets on seduction and just knowing you'll cop it. As far out as far out can be (without accomplices). Bordering insanity no doubt establishes: one's freedom to be how you choose. Your abnormality, honed by all the little clues from one's Big family, to guide you, and now there you are. You may surpass us all by far. And when you've done with this small place then forward into outer space. Sixteen thousand years later, most believe, you were greater, than all those before and aft'. Propheteering is just daft. |
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#2313 |
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Join Date: Nov 2004
Location: Berkshire
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Quote:
Daft Prophet.
All soft as velvet cushion land. As pampered as a prophet. Free pamphlets on seduction and just knowing you'll cop it. As far out as far out can be (without accomplices). Bordering insanity no doubt establishes: one's freedom to be how you choose. Your abnormality, honed by all the little clues from one's Big family, to guide you, and now there you are. You may surpass us all by far. And when you've done with this small place then forward into outer space. Sixteen thousand years later, most believe, you were greater, than all those before and aft'. Propheteering is just daft.
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#2314 |
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Join Date: Jun 2011
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard
I made a Kate Bush tape the other day Sandy - it's perfect on autumn days when I'm driving through the countryside
![]() Good to singalong to also.
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#2315 |
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mr. mustard;
Carry On Kenneth
©
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#2316 |
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Join Date: Jun 2011
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What is Anger
What is anger but a means to What is anger but a turn What is anger but a face What is anger but a question What is anger but untrue reflection Anger has no place to dwell goodbye anger farewell. |
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#2317 |
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Join Date: Nov 2004
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Quote:
What is Anger
What is anger but a means to What is anger but a turn What is anger but a face What is anger but a question What is anger but untrue reflection Anger has no place to dwell goodbye anger farewell. Anger has no place to dwell goodbye anger farewell I often wonder why I get angry about so much these days. Perhaps I'm just getting old. |
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#2318 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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Quote:
LIGHT OF THE STABLE
![]() It's nice to see the real meaning being communicated on the thread
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#2319 |
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Quote:
Daft Prophet.
![]() I agree with Wizzy - this is a great poem and it has a sci-fi tone, a side of your material I always enjoy
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#2320 |
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Quote:
Anger has no place to dwell
goodbye anger farewell.
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#2321 |
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Prayer
Cast these heavy chains away And let their shackles fall, Tell me how I find a way That leads me to your hall. There at last behind the doors I'll lose these tears of mine, Glad to place my hands in yours Before I taste the wine. Help my eyes behold and then Return the skies to blue So I see the world again As beautiful and true. Looking at the rivers here Unable to decide, I will choose the boat to steer But only you can guide. Show horizons clear and warm Above a green domain, Rid me of this petty storm Along with fear and pain. Through the night when hope is gone And I am less than whole Shine your healing light upon The darkness in my soul. © |
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#2322 |
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Join Date: Nov 2006
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Quote:
Finally, musty I'm really pleased for you that you have nearly completed a book. If you would care to PM me when it's ready I'd be more than happy, and infact, excited, to purchase a copy.
I'll probably put the link on this thread, but I'll PM you if you're not around. My technical helper has broken his arm in a fall, delaying the book's production even further Never mind, we're still hoping for a January/February release date. That reminds me of an old Barbara Dickson song
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#2323 |
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Quote:
Carry Ons made us laugh didn't they, so carry on laughing
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#2324 |
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Join Date: Jun 2012
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We all change … don’t we?
The wind of change blew hard that day stretching hazy shadows across our way, leaving our thin, grey smudges flat behind us, spreading the dying autumn leaves . . swirled then lifted . . around our muffled feet, casting them hither and thither across the cold ground. I tried to hold your hand but the chill pulled me back to the comfort of my own pocket. And I felt easier like that. Once your hand would have been there too, sharing my warmth, but now my withdrawal felt necessary - no wrong signals to be given out, just tied thoughts to be kept tight - hidden, caught and scared. I now let them seep, one drop at a time – a water torture. There’s no easy way. |
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#2325 |
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Quote:
We all change … don’t we?
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I was trying to think what to write about initially and then I suppose I thought 'why not write about not being sure what to write about' 
Never mind, we're still hoping for a January/February release date. That reminds me of an old Barbara Dickson song