UKC

Poetry thread #34

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 Sandrine 08 May 2010
Beyond a 1000 posts we move on, as usual, to the next thread.

New Theme: bipolar behaviour
 Dee 08 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> Beyond a 1000 posts we move on, as usual, to the next thread.
>
> New Theme: bipolar behaviour

'Radicalism' said the head,
'Sincerity' pleaded the heart
'Wealth' cried the head
'Environmentalism' retorted the heart
but the hand shook violently
and the pencil crossed against
them all...


OP Sandrine 08 May 2010
In reply to Dee:

I take it Gordon was your favourite in the end then!
 Dee 09 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine: Wasn't organised enough (or sufficiently motivated by any political inclination) to sort out my ballot before I left the country in March. Currently in NZ enjoying a cracking Autumn... you well & looking forward to doing more trad climbing this year?
OP Sandrine 09 May 2010
In reply to Dee:

Lucky you, here we are enjoying a wet spring...Will you post some pics?
Reasonably well, I wish the usual family crap would just stop for good for a change. Keen to climb outside, whether that's gonna happen is another story...
And you, what are you climbing there?


NT: sublimate tea



 waterbaby 09 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to JIB)

>
> NT: sublimate tea

I apologise in advance for this one


I could witter on about chemistry but
what I visualise, you see
being me
is a table of soft smooth curves
lovingly spread with a platter
your tea, my dear
come, eat from me.

For starters and health’s sake
icy melon, juicy and cold
held tantalisingly in the mouth
go on be bold.

It’s naughty and indulgent, I know
a trail of chocolate dipped strawberries
laid out just so
a journey to be savoured, so very slow.

Follow the chocolate drips
to the cream
it’ll cut through the sweetness.
Here’s a tip, I know it’s rude

feel free, to lick the plate clean.


OP Sandrine 09 May 2010
Anybody home?
OP Sandrine 09 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Hehe, chuckling!
OP Sandrine 09 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Must go, night WB, night poets.
 waterbaby 09 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

And I missed you again! Didn't think anyone would be around. Night, night sleep tight.
 Dee 09 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine: Just bouldering here 'til my rope and rack gets here. The local cragging is on bolted schist (Wanaka Rock), big alpine mountains in the background everywhere (Mt Aspiring area of the Southern Alps)...but I'm really looking forward to the ski season starting!

Yrmenlaf 10 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Very good!

Y.
 chris wyatt 11 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Surrogate tea in plastic is
not so fantastic but leads you
to fantasise.to realize
your mother knew
Tried to tell you the truth
to make a brew decent.
Warm the pot! Idiot!
OP Sandrine 12 May 2010
In reply to Dee:

I bet! I skied the Vallée Blanche recently, stunning!
OP Sandrine 12 May 2010
In reply to chris wyatt:

Well, that's new to me that you had to warm the pot!

NT: (film) festival

 Steve Parker 13 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: (film) festival

The National Trust (film) festival
was well attended,
and Tuna sandwiches were available at the kiosk.
I watched a film about the restoration
of a stately home as I munched.
Some of the original sandstone corbels had dissolved
over the years,
and new ones had to be commissioned
from a specialist company in Tonbridge.
These alone cost over a million pounds.
Money well spent, I thought. You can't
put a value on sandstone corbels
as a part of our heritage. Things like this
are sacred. People come and go,
but corbels remain. I felt warm
and happy, full to my gills
with Tuna and national trust.


 iain_cbr 13 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
I ponder should I go and see, to meet a folk or two
I step outside to make my way, but nerves are showing through
The bottle goes, I turn about, and amble on back home
To spend another night with cans, just getting drunk alone.
danhanshan 13 May 2010
In reply to iain_cbr: yum
Yrmenlaf 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Turn this way:
A Beowulf releases his grip of Grendel's arm
Turn again, later:
An actor empties his grip of clothes, gets changed
And finally, over here:
The Chief Grip dismantles the lighting.

Y.
 Cornish Cream 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down. Down. Down.
 upordown 14 May 2010
In reply to Cornish Cream:

You talking to me?!
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to upordown:
> (In reply to Cornish Cream)
>
> You talking to me?!

Cornish Cream is quite obviously talking to your brother upanddown.



 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

The Grip gripped then, gave forth all his gall,
gripped and griped till gouts there did glint
his fingers as iron flung forth roughly fondling
the glassy bulb and bubble of the gloaming beast
until it cracked and crumbled, its curves all collapsed
-- Oh dammit, he said then, the darn thing is defunct,
and sent he then forth the Sub-grip to the suppliers
for a new bulb or two.
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Off to check what a corbel is.

Tuna sandwiches... Usually in soggy white bread, with a salty mayonnaise added to the tuna to make it more spreadable, a limp piece of lettuce, with its edges all oxidized after so much time in the air flirting with oxygen. Yum!
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to iain_cbr:

I reckon you should have gone to see your friends.
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

All the actors are mucking in during the reenactment?
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Cornish Cream:

Olé!
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

It takes a few breath of fresh air to read it aloud without spluttering!
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
NT: pizza
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to chris wyatt)
>
> Well, that's new to me that you had to warm the pot!
>
> NT: (film) festival

May, once a year, Art house films come to the fore
to compete against blockbusters, here by the shore
as they descend with their entourage
Directors, Producers and more
this part of the Med, lifts it’s laid back head
wakes and stretches, ready for its vernissage.

The rich and the famous grace the evening streets
which radiate the day’s dry heat
a curtain of lingering, expensive perfume, cloys the air
relieved by a Mistral that ensnares
sweeping energetically out over the Bay
an olive and lavender scented tidal wave

The people now safely ensconced
at the awards, awaiting the piece de resistance
two weeks of films, two weeks to be seen
the swish of gowns, that have painted the town
now the best accolade of all, the Palm D’Or

 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Cornish Cream:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> Up.
> Down.
> Up.
> Down.
> Up.
> Down.
> Up.
> Down. Down. Down.



Swim, swim, don't drown!
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Evening WB! That's exactly what I had in mind!
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Steve Parker)
>
> It takes a few breath of fresh air to read it aloud without spluttering!

So does life.

 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Evening. It's the only one that springs to mind
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

I did not mean it in a ngeative way, I meant it felt like one of these phrases that needs to be repeated at speed to improve one's pronunciation.
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
Can I have a "pizza" poem now
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

They like highbrow themes, don't you know!

NT: designed and built by God

 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: pizza

Pizza
Pizza for tea
it's only because
it's easy for me.

Open the freezer
out of the packet
flies in the oven
because as a chef
I can't hack it.

'Kids, here's your tea'
lovingly prepared by me


OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Hehe! Just back from the supermarket and that's all I could be bothered to stick in the oven.
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> Can I have a "pizza" poem now

if I were a pizza dough
I would flip in your hands
gathering oxygen
white and firm I would fly
before you topped me
and stuck me
in the oven
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> They like highbrow themes, don't you know!
>
I might have just disproved that theory. Eek.
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> They like highbrow themes, don't you know!
>
> NT: designed and built by God

God?
Who is this person
you speak of?

He must be the guy
who whisked up
the Earth
in seven days.

By that
I am amazed
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

I did not even bothered buying the dough. You could call it a ready meal really. Shame on me...
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: designed and built by God

the tapeworm
was designed
from on high
but you have
to ask maybe
why?

OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Yes, that one. All in white and never got a speckle of dust on his attire or his beard!

Hopefully this one will inspire Y too.
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

On fridays we have swimming lessons and so It's easier to do pizza. I get the leftovers, when there are any

High brow, I can't do that!
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

That and the plague, he had some weird ideas, the old git!
notbyname 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I'd draw a line under
all of this if I could.
I'd stab the pencil through the jotter
burying at least an inch of wood.

Summation and final accounting
would be a sweet relief
an end to what ifs and to
all this pointless grief
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Does that mean you don't eat after swimming?!
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Yes, that one. All in white and never got a speckle of dust on his attire or his beard!
>
> Hopefully this one will inspire Y too.

I'm sure he'll produce something worthy of the theme. It took me all afternoon, on and off to write the film festival one. I actually fell asleep a couple of times, even managed to bore myself
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to notbyname:

Hello NbN. Grief is not pointless in my opinion. It's yet another learning. You're a wiser person by the end of it.
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I feed the children early, before we go. I eat after, by which time I'm ravenous.
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Well I am impressed. A whole afternoon! I tell you what, this threda should be called the poetic gift thread. You receive those right, left and centre, it's free, it's warming, et.c...
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

I always eat after swimming or else I am sluggish. And I feel ravenous too!
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Steve Parker)
>
> I did not even bothered buying the dough. You could call it a ready meal really. Shame on me...

I am generally a lazy git too. I've decided to start cooking properly again, though, as I am actually quite into cooking anyway. I decided a cooking regime of at least 3 interesting meals a week is coming. I quite like just making them up as I go along because I can't generally be bothered reading recipes. Very rare that I make pizza dough, though. Even rarer that I buy that 000 flour that you're supposed to use.

OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
NT: arch your spine
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Most of the time I do cook a minimum which is why a pizza feels lazy. And terribly salty too. There is a lot to be said about cooking an interesting meal though. And lots to learn for kids if you get them interested.
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: arch your spine

when cooking a arched spine pie
first meet with the cow and say HI
then get her cut up
with her blood in a cup
so she'll do for a soup mixed with rye
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Lovely recipe! You could add a black pudding stanza!
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Steve Parker)
>
> Lovely recipe! You could add a black pudding stanza!

Mmmm, pigs' blood solidified and fried
with honeypie
and artichoke and egg
on the side...

OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Artichoke! I love artichokes!


NT: Cobra pose
OP Sandrine 14 May 2010
I am fading fast now. NIght poets, it's been lovely reading you
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: arch your spine


I'll get into trouble writing about anything remotely sensuous! I won't be able to resist that one though, but it'll have to wait. May be tomorrow

Have a not so good, lullaby instead

Blue is your colour
It flows in and around you
A blanket that cradles
Holds you tight
All through the long, dreamy night.
As the morning breaks and
Sleep leaves your eyes
Blink away the blue shiny stars
Shake out your blanket
And fly high
into the bright blue yonder
 waterbaby 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Night Sandrine, night Steve. A lullaby not a moment to soon, or was it a moment late?
 Steve Parker 14 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Phew, I missed the pressure of having to do the lullaby!

Night, Sandrine! Nice to see you, and you too Waterbaby.

Will try to get around more often.

Seeya, folks.

Steve.
 upordown 15 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: Cobra pose

a cobra in a cobra pose
is so relaxed he’s comatose
while upordown can barely doze
(it’s not the way her backbone goes)
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to upordown:

the cobra in the mongoose mouth
doth recognise he's going south
but to his fans he flutters
as through the lips he sputters.
might as well, he thinks,
look cool while it all sinks.
maybe they'll watch and remember
this fight and my last ember.
my cobra pose and cool resolve
they'll hail as I dissolve.
though I'm going down alone
I'll try to bite the backbone
of this internal mongoose
and somehow I might break loose.
such are the cobra's final feelings
when faced with such low ceilings.

but no happy endings
for such backbone bendings.

farewell fair cobra pose
and all other snake heroes

.

 upordown 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

the mongoose having quite a munch
is thinking, as his teeth do crunch
the slimy cobra, that he tastes like chicken
though the scales do sicken
and swallowing foot by foot
can get quite dull, and put
the mongoose in a mood
desirous of some other food
something tasty, not so scary
without forked tongue or being lairy
and so he came to wish he chose
a straighter dish than cobra pose
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to upordown:

Steve and upordown- very good!

In the heat, in the passion
As you swim dolphin like through the pool
As your hands descend, your legs flip over
As your body snakes seductively around the pole
In an abdominal stretch, as you hold
In that moment, that split second before
You arch your spine
Body and mind fuse
Pure pleasure explored.

notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Whenever I see a worthy man
I instantly transform myself
garden snake to cobra pose


Hi everybody!!
 kamala 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:
Hey, notelvis! Congrats on your publications, you've obviously been busy to great effect.

upordown, SP, waterbaby: who'd have thought the cobra pose could be so inspiring?
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

Hello K, long time no see! Thanks for the congrats, it was sort of a quick unexpected surprise! Been way busier working than writing though, sadly. How are you?! Last time I was here you had met some Italian guy on a plane, that's a long time!
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:

Hello. Been a long time. Congrats from me too
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Yes it has been but it still feels like home. Thanks waterbaby, I see Steve has been yapping. Not that he yaps, haha! Kidding steve. ; ) I appreciate it.
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:

Italian guy, snakes, plane... Hey, I have a great idea for a film!

notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

I do hope it doesn't involve pizza. ; ) That would go with the Italian theme, mind you.
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

Hi there K and Waterbaby. Yeah, but wtf is a cobra pose anyway?

Sandrine???
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Where is that Sandrine?

I think a cobra pose is disguised as a low hiss ready to attack the charmer.
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Hi Steve
The theme was -arch your spine, but hey I suppose it's the same thing. Cobra pose being what a cobra does!
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:

Yeah yeah. This suggests you know all about it:

Whenever I see a worthy man
I instantly transform myself
garden snake to cobra pose

Being an altogether unworthy man, I have no experience of this transformation. Sounds like a Ken Russell film to me.

 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

> NT: Cobra pose

Waterbaby, looky here above!



notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Oh but that isn't true, whenever I see the name Steve Parker, I instantly strike the pose. Honest!

Waterbaby, arching the spine is the opposite of cobra pose isn't it? Do cobras have spines? They sure are twisty things!!
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Oops, how did I miss that one! Sorry.
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
> (In reply to Steve Parker)
>
> Oops, how did I miss that one! Sorry.

That's okay, but to make up for it you have to show us your cobra pose! Photo in the next 5 minutes please!

 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:

Reptiles are just that, not mammals therefore no backbone. They raise there head, which in effect could be likened to the arching of our spine.

We can arch our spines backwards or forewards, can we not?
 Steve Parker 15 May 2010
Okay, I have to git. Got some stuff to do and have to be up earlier than is reasonable for a Sunday. Really nice to see you all.
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Depends how old I feel that day. ; )
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
> [...]
>
> That's okay, but to make up for it you have to show us your cobra pose! Photo in the next 5 minutes please!

Then you'd have to look me in the eyes and that'd be your downfall.
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

bye bye Stevers!
 waterbaby 15 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Depends how old I feel that day. ; )

Haha, me too.

Night Steve. I really should go too. Nice to speak to you both. Catch you again
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
> (In reply to Steve Parker)
> [...]
>
> Then you'd have to look me in the eyes and that'd be your downfall.

haha! I forgot how great this place was! : D
notelvis1 15 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

See you wb, great to catch you here. I am now at the mercy of time zones bah!!

I shall try and pop in more.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:
The Italian bloke was a washout, sadly. We could never find the same weekend free and when he passed up the chance to meet in favour of watching Formula 1 on TV I'm afraid I gave up! :-S At least I learned some Italian, though.
Perhaps I should take your hint on how to act in front of a worthy man...

Hope work's been rewarding all your efforts.

---
(If anyone *really* wants to know, reptiles are vertebrates too. I just checked that, and apparently snakes have 145 pairs of ribs attached to their spine. (Don't know why that caught my imagination...))
---

Looks like I've applied my usual good timing, missed all the activity and everyone's gone to bed. But goodnight to anyone still up
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
Morning poets! I missed a good session last night!

Here is a new theme to the etheral sea: turn the page
 Dee 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: Cobra pose


Defanged she reared,
flared eyes aglare,
sensing more than fear;
enboldened blood pumped recaptured memories
- love, freedom and power -
all lost,

smitten by a charmer.

OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
Cobra pose:

See step 7 of the sun salutation here:

http://www.yogasite.com/sunsalute.htm


Or go to 1min 53 on that video:

youtube.com/watch?v=F51c4WUDT5Q&
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
In reply to Dee:

Hi there! Liked your poem. Good theme, I think!

Is it sunny where you are?
 Dee 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine: Not sunny today, sadly. Been grey, lots of low cloud on the mountains. Collecting firewood from the shores of Lake Wanaka this afternoon, been really high water levels here - Queenstown nearly flooded - weather starting to become quite noticeably autumnal. Most folk here seem to dread next month when an inversion hangs around...then the blue skies return! The snowline is creeping down the mountains too!
 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to kamala:
> (In reply to notelvis1)
>
> ---
> (If anyone *really* wants to know, reptiles are vertebrates too. I just checked that, and apparently snakes have 145 pairs of ribs attached to their spine. (Don't know why that caught my imagination...))
> ---
It caught your imaginsation because it was interesting and also very relevant to the themes. I knew I should have checked that before I opened my mouth! One day I'll learn

 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> Cobra pose:

>
>
> Or go to 1min 53 on that video:
>
> http://www.you...

Morning All. Wow, that is amazing. He's so bendy, wish I could do that!

Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Yrmenlaf)
>
> All the actors are mucking in during the reenactment?

no, but re-enactors are often called in to be extras in films (did you see the recent Channel 4 production about 1066? It had a load of my mates in - distracting when you're trying to watch)

Y.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Well done: a good afternoon's work, I'd say.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Yes, that one. All in white and never got a speckle of dust on his attire or his beard!
>
> Hopefully this one will inspire Y too.

Well, this:

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?pid=31213540&id=1323604587

Inspired this:

Carnmore Riddle

Our tales, they say, are long
Our bodies short
Our teeth can gnaw the cords
That bind a lion
Or cut the nails
Free the Christ
From his cross

Urban we can live well
And fat
Avoiding the bounding hound
The cat and rat.
Church poor? Yet certain
Of holy crumbs
From Christ's table

And here is cheer: Eat well
Of this fruit. An apple,
So sweet to eat
In a dark backpack.
Eve's fruit: her fear
Is gone
In my feast.

Y.



Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:
> (In reply to waterbaby)

> Hi everybody!!

Hi yourself!

Y.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to kamala:
>
> Looks like I've applied my usual good timing, missed all the activity and everyone's gone to bed. But goodnight to anyone still up

At least you got the right day!

How are you anyway?

Y.
 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Cheers Y.

It was one that I kind of got into, then I got stuck. So many ideas and it was difficult to rhyme them. So I did a bit at lunch and a bit whilst I watched swimming lessons and I finished it before I posted it. Enjoyable! My mind doesn't get enough use, so it's nice to stretch it every now and then. Just wish sometimes I had more time for everything
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

So is there an enthusiasm for a poets' meet in June? I can do 26th/27th or 19th/20th quite easily; I'd be more reluctant to do the 12th/13th, and can't do 5th/6th (because I have to be here:

http://www.eharper.nildram.co.uk/medfair.html )

Y.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

More time for everything would be good.

Y.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
Hi Y, good to see you around! I'm OK, thanks, unplastered but not yet fit to run...
How about you?

waterbaby: I check a lot more than I used to do, it's great what strange things you learn in the process. Not sure I'd trade an extra 130-odd ribs for legs and arms and opposable thumbs, though.

concerning snowlines: just before I left or Germany, there were still patches of snow visible high on the Carneddau. Hope they last till I get back!

 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Good work, love the way you've linked the two.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
Hear, hear! More time is what we need...
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

I'd like to take credit, but its a clear case of a poem I'd written anyway fitting a theme

Y.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
Good riddle, by the way.
And yes, there is enthusiasm for a meet.

Oops, I'm supposed to be working but I can't resist dropping in now and then...see you all later!

Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

I'm doing well: over busy (as always), but generally enjoying life, and trying to slot a climb in from time to time.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

Which of the three weekends do you prefer?

Y.
 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Weekends away are a bit tricky for me. If you go somewhere within a days driving distance, I might manage a day trip, as long as we are climbing

Peak would be good. If you all sort something out I'll see what I can do. I can't do 19/20th as away camping in Wiltshire.
 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to kamala:
> (In reply to Yrmenlaf)
> Good riddle, by the way.
> And yes, there is enthusiasm for a meet.
>
> Oops, I'm supposed to be working but I can't resist dropping in now and then...see you all later!

Don't work too hard, it's Sunday. I was meant to be at work today but they cancelled my shift-on the one hand it's great, on the other, no pay

I should be tidying the garden and staking my tomatoes, so I ought to go now too.

Nice to catch up with you Kamala and Y.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
Not the 5th/6th but I don't think I have any preferences between the other three - I haven't thought that far ahead so I can probably fit in with everyone else.
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Ironing calls. I'll drop back in later.

Y.
 kamala 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
> ...no pay...

Not so good but gardening sounds like a more pleasant option, at least. Have fun.
 waterbaby 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Lordy! I forgot about the ironing!! Boo hiss, I've got a pile of that to do too

Toodle loo
Yrmenlaf 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

done

Y.
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

12th/13th, or 19th/20th are still free.
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
Yes, very bendy, I am nowhere near that sort of level. Also, the teacher in my class uses the sun prayer as a warm up, done fairly fast (2 repeats within a min) and with strong inhalation/exhalation. Nothing as slow as that video.
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Cool riddle. But I cannot see the pic for some reason.
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
NT: modern ashram
OP Sandrine 16 May 2010
Night poets, tomorrow is a working day.
Yrmenlaf 17 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

So is 26th/27th not free? Might have to go for 12th/13th then, and sacrifice my other event.

Y.
OP Sandrine 18 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

26th/27th is not free anymore.
 chris wyatt 19 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Its good to see you all on line
Enjoying your plate of po et ree
Like a pizza decked in fish and lime
A stodgy suprise of zang and zing

You know the truth: Life, its a pizza
Dough and blood with cheesy spots
Artichoke hearts, magic mushrooms
Better cooked when the oven's hot.


Yrmenlaf 19 May 2010
In reply to chris wyatt:

Hi Chris. How's South Wales, and your part in it?

Do you fancy something on the 12th/13th June?

Y.
notelvis1 20 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

I think last time I ventured in here you were all organizing a meet, good to see that is still going strong!

p.s. I love pizza don't tempt me like that!
 kamala 20 May 2010
In reply to notelvis1:
I see the late shift's in again!
I like pizza but I'm not entirely convinced by cw's - doesn't sound vegetarian to me.

Hope all's well with you, cw.
And I hope notelvis is having a good evening!

I, on the other hand, must try to get some work done or, failing that, sleep. Goodnight, all!
OP Sandrine 21 May 2010
NT: coconut ( ideally in the form of a lullaby), off to bed anyway in 2 mins, but keep them coming.
OP Sandrine 22 May 2010
Poets?
 kamala 22 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Evening, S.
I'm present in body but not in brain, or in spirit but not in sense, or something...
Hope all's well with you.
OP Sandrine 22 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

Hello K. Well I have just started a strong, unusual headache and would struggle with poetry tonight. How is you?
 kamala 22 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Looks like an evening for headaches, me too. Hope you get over yours soon.

Watching the blackbird pretending to be a bluetit this morning was good, though.

OP Sandrine 22 May 2010
In reply to kamala:

Lots of swallows and seagulls here. And a new friendly cat.

Hope your headache clear soon too. Night K.
 kamala 22 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Swallows, great! Seagulls - hmmm.

Thanks - yours too. Goodnight!
Yrmenlaf 22 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

But not, I guess, friendly to the swallows and seagulls

Y.
OP Sandrine 23 May 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

It looks like a well-fed cat, who seems to be spending most of its time sleeping in the shade.
In reply to Sandrine:

I held myself in my hand
and I had begun
when my eyes fixed on my suit
on its hanger
and I thought about wearing it at Leslies funeral
and how nothing of Leslie exists anymore beyond ashes,
all his memories,
what was left of them have collapsed and gone.
What was in my hand now wasn't so proud anymore
but more resembling
what it will be when its my time.
Yrmenlaf 23 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

The cat may sleep
In shade so deep:
But she dreams
Dreams of a thrush
From the bush
On her claw.

Y.

Yrmenlaf 23 May 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> I held myself in my hand
> and I had begun
> when my eyes fixed on my suit
> on its hanger
> and I thought about wearing it at Leslies funeral
> and how nothing of Leslie exists anymore beyond ashes,
> all his memories,
> what was left of them have collapsed and gone.
> What was in my hand now wasn't so proud anymore
> but more resembling
> what it will be when its my time.

Will such a suit
Impress
The Ferryman.
Or will you
Throw meat
To the feet
Of the three-headed dog
That guards the crossing?
Will your words
Or a sword
Secure
Your place
Amongst the chosen ones?
 Fidget 24 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I didn't realise we were on thread 34, I'm not really online any more. I added to the last thread last week, will re-post here:

In reply to waterbaby:

Thanks.

Well I've been thinking, and just sat down and wrote this. Despite the thinking it was a fairly quick poem and I'm not sure if it captures the vibe I was aiming for, but I just wanted to get something down so for that it'll suffice

> raise the alarm

she slumps, gravity conquering
feeble knees. Support
posed by the wall
is it time to call?

in the cycle of life, one
makes way for another
a stirring inside
wrecks this once mother

is it time to raise the signal
or another false alarm?

a consummate pain
declares this is not fake
she fingers the orange toggle
given to keep her safe

but why call for help
if this is the final hour
there's no use in aid
the old woman releases her power
Yrmenlaf 24 May 2010
In reply to Fidget:

Yes, I saw this on the end of #33, and enjoyed it: I should have commented!

Y.
 chris wyatt 26 May 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Hello All

I don't think I can get away this year. Large trip to Japan, Austrailia and Hong Kong looming!
 waterbaby 27 May 2010
In reply to Fidget:

That's well done

 waterbaby 03 Jun 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I search for meaning
I struggle forth
I found it momentarily
Now I’ve lost the source

I fall and wan
I fade so fast
I tried so hard
To make it last

In the dying embers
In the last flicker of life
No fuel remains to send me
Into rhapsodies of delight

scattercat 10 Jun 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

> New Theme: bipolar behaviour


Make Me

There are rules of disengagement.
Never make eye contact,
Touch or converse
Shuffle through life in minute steps,
In minute steps.

The paint is cracking,
Peeling for dead eyes.
No place for memory, History, lies.
Shuffle through life in minute steps,
In minute steps.

Make me sleep, Make me wake,
Make me eat, Make me clean,
This is where I want to be,
Just where I want to be.
Make me half, Make me whole,
Make me high, Make me low.
This is where I want to be,
Just where I want to be.

Make me cry
scattercat 10 Jun 2010
In reply to scattercat:
Running a bit behind but I'll catch up...
In reply to Sandrine:

Killing a man,
like loving another woman,
while you still have a wife.

Murdering a man
like taking another woman,
When you still have a wife.
 Dee 27 Jun 2010
Been away for a while... what's the current theme? Is it still coconut?
 waterbaby 04 Jul 2010
In reply to Dee:


Papery, understated perfection, that flaps like a red cotton sheet
Opium dreams borne on the breeze or
Poignant thoughts of thousands, whose eyes are ever night
Pods reveal dark eyes smiling, a salute in the summer sunlight
You grace my sight each morning and fill me with delight.
 Alyson 06 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby: Lovely poppies wb - they look glorious at the moment don't they?
 waterbaby 07 Jul 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Hi Alyson, it's been a while, hope you are well.

I love the way that they just sprout up in my garden. They are really short lived but everyday another one or two has opened. Delicate but robust.

 Mita 07 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

People's lying here, people's lying there
People's lying everywhere
People's dying here, people's dying there
People's dying everywhere

People's dying 'cos people's lying
People's crying 'cos people's lying
People's denying that they is lying
No-one's defying all this lying

Even people who's dying still keep lying
So more people's crying
More people's dying
'Cos people's only know lying
 waterbaby 07 Jul 2010
In reply to Mita:

Hey Mita you dark horse, nice to see you posting here. Is it one of yours?
 Mita 07 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

No, it's by Alessandra Liverani...
OP Sandrine 17 Jul 2010
Hey, some new poets among the usual suspects!

Write, write, please do, for my pleasure and that of others.

Here is a New Theme should you need one : the revival
OP Sandrine 18 Jul 2010
Poets?
 Steve Parker 18 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Come in Sandrine.

Nah, you're breaking up.

Sandrine?

Sandrine???

Shit, Algy, coulda sworn I heard her out there for a second...

Nah, nuthin, I guess. Just going crazy. Keep heading home.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Hey Steve, here, over here! I am about, at the other end of the ether cable!
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Hello Sandrine, I missed you because I was writing an essay on UKC Fit club!

How are you?

Hi Steve, hope all is well with you and your boys
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

...and actually I have to chase hot kids into the shower now, so I'm about to disappear for a while.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Hi WB! Sugar, you're leaving already. Are they too young to have a shower by themselves? I will find that essay of yours to read then.
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

No I'm still here and yes, they should be able to do it themselves. Unless I chase them and stand over them, they'll still be there at midnight considering getting in the shower!
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Hehehe! I bet they are hungry too by now!
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: raises hand, I'm here, taking beds apart so unlikley to get much composed!
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I fed them before I started, just as well really.

Have you been enjoying the weather?
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

Hiya John. Lots of work moving house, but it'll be worth it. I'm slightly jealous!
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby: feel free to come and do the work! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

You're moving?
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: yep
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Yes, not much climbing though which is a shame but quite a bit of running and general stay outside activities!

You?
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

Where?
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: South Derbyshire, between Ashby-de-la-Zouche and Burton On Trent
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

Well at least there will be more climbing than in Dartford!
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I haven't been outdoor climbing in ages. Still I'm swimming outdoor and running, can't complain.
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: Aye thats part of the plan, as well as starting again in a slightly more rural area. Oh and goat a great deal on a new 6 bed house
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:
> (In reply to waterbaby) feel free to come and do the work! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee

Nice try matey, I'll just take the house in Derbyshire instead, ta
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby: Taking a couple of weeks off running but planning to get some cycling and swimming going again as well. Oh and more climbing.
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

Your buying a goat, bloody hell, people usually buy chickens first
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby: hands off! but feel free to drop in sometime.
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:
> (In reply to waterbaby) Taking a couple of weeks off running but planning to get some cycling and swimming going again as well. Oh and more climbing.


Yeh, yeh, rub my nose in it why don't ya!
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

6 beds!
Could we organise a poets meet at yours then?!

(I did warn I was stubborn...)
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:
> (In reply to waterbaby) hands off! but feel free to drop in sometime.

Yes, I might just do that
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: did I not mention the 3 kids!
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: One will be a games room, Oh and I get a study again as well. I do work from home.

Not sure I would be allowed to not been writing much for a long time now.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

Are the grand-parents not nearby?
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: no we're runniog further away from them, for purposes of my sanity of course!
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: do you use FB, I have a picture there
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

But they are free child-mindrs!
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

No I don't.

Can I have some poetry now.
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to John Lewis)
>
> But they are free child-mindrs!

aparty from the fact the kids dont like staying with them and we have more to fix again afterwards

 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to John Lewis)
>
> No I don't.
>
> Can I have some poetry now.

I started one a few days ago but i ran out of steam. Tried again yesterday and it was almost there but I was too sleepy to finish it. You can have it when I'm done, only I can't say when that'll be.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

The kids of today... I did not particularly liked going to my grandparents either as there was a rather stifled atmosphere in their houses : not allowed to be noisy, to leave the table during a meal, et.c...Boredom ensued of course. But now I think that being bored is part of the experience, they instilled some values in me and my cousins, a lot of love was granted... And I still have fond memories of the visits.
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine: Don't think there is a poem in there tonight, but trying?

I was brought up by my grandmother, who taught me to enjoy poetry.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

A lady of good taste obviously.

Shall I give another theme?
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to John Lewis)
>
> A lady of good taste obviously.
>
> Shall I give another theme?

Yes please In the meantime, just for you I hastily finished it.

I saw you there in that state
a broken man, jetsam
awaiting the turning tide

It was in the eyes, a flicker of knowing
passed between us, flotsam to jetsam
awaiting the waves we must ride

the spume buffeted us, tossing
dragging us under, an emotional caldron
and there’s nowhere to hide

A raw energy that takes us to tears
Yet swoops us up so we must face our fears
As the turmoil subsides, we realise it’s time to decide

Having braved the storm
Wrung out, but no longer forlorn
Flotsam and jetsam, side by side they glide.
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Night Sandrine

Blue is how you have been
Blue is how I am
But blue is the colour
Of the sky on a Summer’s day
Exaggerating the beautiful demoiselle
That flies above the reeds
Shimmers, over rivulets of water
Watching as kingfishers flash their
Electric blue wings
Blue, it’s how I was
before I met this scene.
OP Sandrine 19 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Thanks WB, much appreciated. And also for the blue lullaby. Night.
 waterbaby 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I know you've gone but forgot to attach this to last lullaby

http://www.flickr.com/photos/waterbaby21/4791697148/
Yrmenlaf 19 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:
> (In reply to Sandrine) South Derbyshire, between Ashby-de-la-Zouche and Burton On Trent

So when we drive along the A38 to Lichfield on Friday we'll be going past yours?

Y.
Yrmenlaf 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Missed you again: how are you keeping?

Y.
 John Lewis 19 Jul 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf: within about 5 miles, drop in!
Yrmenlaf 20 Jul 2010
In reply to John Lewis:

We'll wave on the way past.

Unless you fancy coming to see us: we're part of the entertainment here:

http://www.lichfielddc.gov.uk/anglosaxonfestival

(but be warned: I won't recognise you without my specs)

Y.
 waterbaby 21 Jul 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

I couldn't see anything with out mine, you're either not too short sighted or brave
 SuperstarDJ 21 Jul 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Not sure if this is on topic or not but anyway...

My heart was full and now is broken
My step was light and now is stone
The sun was risen and now is sunken
Where once you sat, an empty throne

The year looked bright and now is dimming
The days seemed short and now hang long
The tongue that flew is no more singing
Where once your voice a silent song

I flew over mountains high and soaring
With never a thought of drops to come
The light went out and set me falling
And left me here so far from home

For every love a matching passing
For every breath of joy a choke
For heaven's touch a hell surpassing
Each scent of victory's God's little joke

And yet this story isn't finished
Not while there's breath yet left in me
Without love a life's diminished
And 'strive on' the only way to be

David.
Yrmenlaf 22 Jul 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

There's a fine line between "brave" and "stupid"

I have to look round before I take my specs off to see who is wearing what. And I did nearly once kiss the wrong woman!

Y.
OP Sandrine 01 Aug 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Cool pics. What have you got camera wise?
OP Sandrine 01 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

I am fine and you?
OP Sandrine 01 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

Hey David, Love is the supreme theme (and you're welcome to post any poetry anyway). Welcome to the thread!
OP Sandrine 01 Aug 2010
NT: 4 weeks before the alps
 Steve Parker 02 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: 4 weeks before the alps

four weeks before the Alps
when Time ran high and slow
at one hour to the litre
our fuel was running low
Africa heaved westward
from a time as yet below
rearing north clockfaces
with winds all set to blow
then just as we arrived
Alplets began to show
they reared up ages high
and ticktocked to and fro
we scaled with our big hands
those analogues of snow
till Alp alarms rang out
and Time did cease to grow
a thousand feet to midnight
our sundials all aglow
we penduled to the summit
where Time's long shadows flow
a big black bird hung there
a creaking midnight crow
high and wide he croaked
you're four weeks late you know...

:0)




 Steve Parker 02 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> New Theme: bipolar behaviour

Amundsen Peary arrived at the Pole
to find a small schism inside of his soul
his legs had gone north
and his top half gone south
and somehow his feet
now stuck out his mouth

Robert. E. Roald had got to the top
and when he hit bottom he knew he must stop
small things confused him
like going to the toilet
and why water doesn't freeze
even when you boil it

Amundsen Peary had won all the races
down north and up south he smiled with two faces
he felt strangely depressed
like he'd split all asunder
but he was high as a kite
updown in the Tundra


 SuperstarDJ 03 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

4 weeks to the Alps

Dream of vistas to discover
Book BMC insurance cover
Book the chunnel and time away
Mood shifting to blue from grey

The gym and pavements, pounding shoes
Alpine dreams drown workout blues
Feeling stronger, fitter, faster
Tape blistered feet with sticking plaster

Raid the savings for new kit
New goretex gloves no dachstein mitts
To keep me warm a nice new shell
(to make sure I look the part as well)

On dining table the map's spread out
Our fingers trace the likely route
The guidebook studied, the chances weighed
In arenas where the game will be played

Anticipation's such a pleasure
of moments that I know I'll treasure
And I'll be taking mountain scalps
In 4 weeks I'm off to the Alps!

David
OP Sandrine 03 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> [...]
>
...> a big black bird hung there
> a creaking midnight crow
> high and wide he croaked
> you're four weeks late you know...
>
> :0)

I ain't listening to doom and gloom crows.
OP Sandrine 03 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> [...]
>
> Amundsen Peary arrived at the Pole
...> updown in the Tundra

That one made me laugh.
OP Sandrine 03 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> 4 weeks to the Alps
>
> Dream of vistas to discover (TICK)
> Book BMC insurance cover (TICK)
> Book the chunnel and time away (Almost there)
> Mood shifting to blue from grey (not quite)
>
> The gym and pavements, pounding shoes
> Alpine dreams drown workout blues
> Feeling stronger, fitter, faster (getting there)
....
> Tape blistered feet with sticking plaster
> Anticipation's such a pleasure
> of moments that I know I'll treasure
> And I'll be taking mountain scalps (fingers crossed)
> In 4 weeks I'm off to the Alps!
>

Cheers, good ticking list!
Left a smile of anticipation on my face.

OP Sandrine 03 Aug 2010
NT: still water

Night poets.
 kamala 03 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Night, S. Nice theme, will think about it.

Good work there by SuperstarDJ and super Parker.

 SuperstarDJ 04 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Still Water

Buring cold to the touch in winter's bitter heart
Biting clammy hot in the pressured moment
Dead calm and smothering as a desert noon
Fierce fast and flown as a midnight tempest

Deeper than drowning
lighter than breath
quicker than mercury
heavier than sorrow

You are still water

David
 SuperstarDJ 04 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:
>
> Good work there by SuperstarDJ and super Parker.

Cheers!

 waterbaby 04 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Cool pics. What have you got camera wise?

Thanks Sandrine. It's just a basic digital camera-Sony cyber-shot DSC-S650, nothing special.

Nice theme you've left us with, I'll give it some thought too. Tomorrow I'm off to play in some ponds, so it'll be apt.
 Alyson 05 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: still water

He waited with her weighted body
drowning him slowly
his brick

waited til the shiver of pale moon
sighed down below the black trees

rowed her slowly across the lake
a bundle of rug and rope and rock
and stray wisp of blonde

the splash so sudden
fracturing the starlit surface
closing back over the memory of her cold face

leaving still water
and nightmares
 waterbaby 05 Aug 2010
In reply to Alyson: Very good Alyson. Somber.
 Steve Parker 05 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: still water
>
when all the mountains
had been eaten
when the trees and deserts and fields
and everything that chattered within them
had disappeared by magic
or by Time
or by some mathematics that devoured
everything except one thing
when this late conversation stopped
when even our rictus full of wine and the night
had now left
there was still water

Yrmenlaf 06 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Four weeks before the alps
A war broke: two strains of plankton
And the fish that fed on them
Practiced a genocide

Three weeks before the alps
The swimmers of the shallow seas
Charged the new warm waters
Between continents

A fortnight before the alps
Those that could crawl the sea bottom
Oysters and echnoids made a chessboard
Of the continental shelf

Seven days before the alps
Seeds blew, land to land
Insects too, brought strange pollen
Across the divide.

Then came the day
When continents collide
And flat landmass rears up to heaven:
The day of the alps.

Y.
 kamala 06 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
Oh, very nice, Y. Great slant on the subject.
 waterbaby 06 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Very good
 waterbaby 06 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: still water


I had an idea for a peaceful day
still water, stirred only by the occasional breeze
watching Reed Warblers from a distance away

The sun making a welcome appearance
through threatening, billowy clouds
in the little pond, the heavens dance

I’d sit and stare at the advancing
ripples, slowly building, gathering momentum
their delicate patterns entrancing

Out of the corner of my eye, grey wings splay
the sudden majestic flight of a Heron
long legs propelling it upwards and away

All this just a memory of another moment
as general consensus opts for chaos, splash and chatter
so at the big pond I shall have to find contentment

The water embraced and knew me still
I thought it sighed, as it felt my skin glide
through it’s caress I am recharged, Water Nymph bestill


OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

Hey K! Where have you been?
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

I took it as a winter poem.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Alyson:

I wondered whether he would have nightmares to come or whether the nightmares had stopped because of her death. A who's dunnit one Alyson!
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Has the end of the world arrived?
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

I agree with K, a very nice slant.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Where is this pond of yours W?


Question to all poets: is it the stillness that inspires you in general or is it chaos?
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: still water
>
Even as you sit,
Motionless
Your reflection splits
into shimmering circles.
And the flies
That dart above the water
Are fewer.

Y.


Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Where is this pond of yours W?
>
>
> Question to all poets: is it the stillness that inspires you in general or is it chaos

Probably more the stillness.

Y.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
NT: shooting stars shower
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> [...]
> Even as you sit,
> Motionless
> Your reflection splits
> into shimmering circles.
> And the flies
> That dart above the water
> Are fewer.
>
> Y.

It must have been the flies lightly touching the water for these circlesto appear.

OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> [...]
>
> Probably more the stillness.
>
> Y.

How come?
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Shooting stars shower, The sun takes a bath
And the grubby-faced moon says with a laugh
"I will stay dirty all the year long
And keep the spacemen away by means of my pong"

Y.
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Or the trout taking the flies.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Have you ever read "The Man Who Was Thursday" by Chesterton. A lot is about the conflict between order and chaos (and between policemen and anarchists, and poets), and how they are the same round the back.

Y.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Pong is breath? Smell?


Yes, the trouts could have done it too. Are there 2 kinds of poetry, one Japanese style, inspired by stillness and the beauty of all things natural (even tamed nature) and then one inspired by chaos (strong feelings, apocalypse, wars, et.c...)?
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

No, do you recommend it?
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

There's far more than two sorts of poetry!!!

Y.
 kamala 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Hi S, I've been right here...but working quite hard and not getting out much.
How about you?

OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:



Please list them for me. But are there more than 2 big sorts of inspiration?
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Yrmenlaf)
>
> No, do you recommend it?

Its an interesting read - very Chesterton.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Who_Was_Thursday

(you don't need to read it now, I've given you a plot spoiler....)

Y.

OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

I have been trying to get my priorities right: working less and playing more.
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

My favorite Chesterton poem:

http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/ascetic.html

Y.
 kamala 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Think it's stillness for me, too - probably because in chaos I can't hear myself think.

But Y's right on two counts: there are far more than two kinds of poetry, and Chesterton is defintely worth a read.
 kamala 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Well done, you! I'm very glad to hear it.


(Think someone needs to teach me how to do the same.)
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I would write a strict sonnet
Of the freedom of a stream
Hurling down a mountainside

Or sing a song of the industry:
The power of the river
The slice of nature in the town

A meandering, freeform verse
Might capture the sluggish flow
Across this floodplain

And a fractured delta of words
Would merge, seamless
To the sea

Y.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

I was not listing the types of poetry I was trying to list the types of inspiration. And also wondered whether the poets on here were inspired by chaos or needed calm, stillness to gather their thoughts.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> My favorite Chesterton poem:
>
> http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/ascetic.html
>
> Y.

Does it strengthen your own faith somehow?

OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> I would write a strict sonnet
> Of the freedom of a stream
> Hurling down a mountainside
>
> Or sing a song of the industry:
> The power of the river
> The slice of nature in the town
>
> A meandering, freeform verse
> Might capture the sluggish flow
> Across this floodplain
>
> And a fractured delta of words
> Would merge, seamless
> To the sea
>
> Y.

Ha! A poetic response.
OP Sandrine 07 Aug 2010
NT: summer night
 Steve Parker 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: shooting stars shower

Mira produced a miracle of Physics

of splashing cosmic fireworks
but in the morning they found
the shower trial volunteers
charred and damp and dead
in their cubicles

after some consideration
Mira decided
this new shower
probably wouldn't catch on


 Alyson 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine: I need calm and stillness to write. I don't think I express chaos very well, and I definitely can't draw energy from it.
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I do enjoy Chesterton's brand of Christianity. And the way he couches his philosophy in humour.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Anyhow, I'm off to bed.

Under this streetlight
A winter night, a summer night
Might seem the same

Sleep well

Y.
 Mark Edwards 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Still keeping up the incessant stream of NT's, I see.

> NT: shooting stars shower

The Perseids visit, every year, as the days begin to shrink
their incredible journey, aeons old, over in a blink
Every year, right on time they come as no surprise
harbingers of another summers gradual demise
So make the most of long light days, and the sultry heat
Because in just a little time, it's back to dark and sleet.
 Steve Parker 07 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to kamala)
>
> I was not listing the types of poetry I was trying to list the types of inspiration. And also wondered whether the poets on here were inspired by chaos or needed calm, stillness to gather their thoughts.

Most of my stuff (not the theme things here, obviously) is about various forms of human chaos, but I tend to write it in quite serene conditions.
 AlisonSmiles 08 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I do my best work when I can bring focussed anger to the subject. I'm too wishy washy when I'm in a relaxed state!
 Mark Edwards 08 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

chaos is good, but by no way exclusive
mostly it's just fun, to play with my muses
I'll come and I'll go, I'll do as I like
being a thoroughly annoying, irreverent, tyke
 Steve Parker 09 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

> Good work there by SuperstarDJ and super Parker.

Hi, Kamala. Sorry, I forgot to reply above. Do you still frequent PFFA? I might give it another try one of these days.

Maybe we should declare a UKC NaPoWriMo to invigorate the poetry thread.

I'll bail in.
 kamala 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
I usually do the challenges like NaPo in PFFA. That's about as much energy as I can spare but I should try to get back to doodling on here...(There are other reasons I won't bore you with for not posting so much here, though.)

> UKC NaPoWriMo

Nice idea, but perhaps something a bit smaller like the "Sevens" might suit people here better - that's seven poems in seven days, starting on the seventh of the month.

> I'll bail in.

Yay!

> I might give it another try one of these days.

I'm not entirely convinced you and they would get on in the normal forums, though! I suspect there might be personality clashes, like putting a hedgehog and a porcupine in a basket together...

 SuperstarDJ 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: summer night

Shivering defiantly outside the pub, with out fleeces zipped snug to our chins,
under a peak sky that's as silent-still and clear as the beginning of the world.
Gazing admiringly at the girls, in their gossamer dresses and caged feet,
under a city sky where the orange sodium stains bleed into the dark
and the day's heat seeps out of the brick, concrete and asphalt.

The bedroom full of hot soupy air and as comfortable as an overstuffed sofa.
Lying in bed in a tangle of sheets like some indolent snoozing lizard
with half an eye open while the taxis sail past the open window,
like breakers on some beach, falling in frequency until the dawn sends them,
scurrying like vampires, to the safety of their beds and tired-eyed day jobs.

The feeling that the year's on the wane already and that the best has gone.
We're on the long slide down to autumn and winter, hardly moving now but
slowly picking up speed, back to school, harvest songs, halloween and fireworks
You faded in the spring and were lost from sight in the summer
Come home with an autumn gale behind you in a cloud of falling leaves.

David
 Steve Parker 10 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

> I'm not entirely convinced you and they would get on in the normal forums, though! I suspect there might be personality clashes, like putting a hedgehog and a porcupine in a basket together...

Aw, I am all nice and socialised now, though!

And hedgehogs and porcupines should have enough sense to recognise that, despite their prickliness, if they are both stuck in a basket, they would do well to seek each other's inner cuddliness!

OP Sandrine 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

What's NaPoWriMo?

Re the 7th day of the month for 7 days. You're already late by 2 days poets.

I am all in favour of invigorating the poetry thread. Is there a job I can do with these new rules? Or else I can always post my usual drivel, or count the number of thorns lost by porcupine and hedgehogs alike!

OP Sandrine 10 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

I liked the story. It's raining here tonight and I already feel nostalgic about the summer...

It ain't finish yet! Please, please!
OP Sandrine 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

I will post a NT just because: just because.
 kamala 10 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:
Some great images in there, nice work again!
 kamala 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
National Poetry Writing Month. (Not actually sure which nation, possibly the USA?) Happens every April, so 30 poems in 30 days. Fun but surprisingly tough going...

Sevens - we can always start next month. Two days to catch up is too much like hard work.

Posting your usual *encouragements* will do fine, I think, unless anyone else has tasks they want to set you...?

See you around!
 kamala 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
P.S. tonight was nice and summery, though a bit chill in the evening. Lovely sunshine on the water
We were about due a change from the monsoon :-S
 kamala 10 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
> if they are both stuck in a basket

Ah, but one of them can always be evicted.
Much though I've come to like many of the mods, they do sometimes overreact quite sharply. I suspect the shortness of patience is partly thanks to large amounts of abuse by PM, although (continuing my domestic livestock analogies) that might be a chicken-or-egg question.

Perhaps more to the point there do seem to be different schools of poetry, whose proponents each value the other schools somewhat lower. What I've seen of yours is a bit off-trend for PFFA; what I write would not, I think, be valued highly at TCP (not that I've been for ages).

Anyway, be good to see you around the place if you do drop in. And let me know if I've improved at all over the years!
OP Sandrine 11 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
> P.S. tonight was nice and summery, though a bit chill in the evening. Lovely sunshine on the water
> We were about due a change from the monsoon :-S

Whereabouts are you posting from?
 SuperstarDJ 11 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to SuperstarDJ)
>
> I liked the story. It's raining here tonight and I already feel nostalgic about the summer...
>
> It ain't finish yet! Please, please!

I didn't really mean to have a narrative direction but one does seem to have slipped in there somehow! Glad you liked it anyway.

David.
 SuperstarDJ 11 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:
> (In reply to SuperstarDJ)
> Some great images in there, nice work again!

Cheers

I think I'll work on it a bit more actually (I have a 30 minute rule for UKC poem contributions) as I think it'll sharpen up a little.

David.
 upordown 11 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> I will post a NT just because: just because.

it’s foolish and absurd, cried the ghost of Aristotle
that fellow Galileo must drink from the devil’s bottle
we all know that the universe revolves around the earth
this heliocentric theory is a source of constant mirth
the pope asked why he thought such things – the outcome of this was
that Galileo shrugged and sighed and muttered just because
 SuperstarDJ 11 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Just Because

I circle around my decisions not daring to pounce too soon
I argue back and forth about what's best to do
ploughing a furrow across my brow
and a worn path on my rug

To do something 'just because' is what a child would do
or something you would do, at your giggling best.
Taking my hand and dragging me into something
I might think better of.

That rush of dread in my gut and then laughter
when I realise that this what I wanted.
Not this just this giddy twirl across the floor
but this fearless way of being.

Of course 'just because' works both ways
Because when I sit and think of why I love you
I can find a hundred arguments dancing through my mind
and you, it seems, can think of none.


David
 waterbaby 11 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> I will post a NT just because: just because.


I knew this was familiar........here's a regurgitated one

Just because you love me
and because I know it’s true
I’ve overlooked all sorts of failings
imbedded deep in you.

just because it’s been so long, those failings
have started to show through
hairline cracks are deepening
all sorts of problems could ensue



 Steve Parker 11 Aug 2010
In reply to upordown:

> the pope asked why he thought such things – the outcome of this was
> that Galileo shrugged and sighed and muttered just because

he ceased to mutter just because
when threatened with his life
I didn't make it up he said
I got it from my wife

I've always known it's nonsense
just look up in the sky
but she persuaded me one night
when I got rather high

I take it all back Mr Pope
and not because of fright
just because it's clearly wrong
and women talk such shite



 upordown 12 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Oi! Better than the rubbish that Mrs Ptolemy came up with anyway.
 Steve Parker 12 Aug 2010
In reply to upordown:

Erm, it was in character, honest!

Yours was good, btw.
 John Lewis 12 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine: A developemnt of a creation by my 13yr old daughter

A mask can cover up your face,
And kill the lights inside.
To hide, that is the objective.
Yet this deception seems so harsh,
For those on the other side.
 upordown 12 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Thanks
 blondel 13 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

<hijack>

Poetry people, I need your help:

http://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?t=420707

Contributions gratefully received (thoughts rather than poems, although anything that adds to the discussion will help).

Thank you.

</hijack>
 Steve Parker 13 Aug 2010
In reply to an gwynne:
> (In reply to Sandrine)
>
> <hijack>
>
> Poetry people, I need your help:
>
> http://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?t=420707


Poets are generally egotistical people who care more for self-expression than they do for communication. The best poets have usually been very bad at relationships. These seem often to be mutually exclusive disciplines.

We are probably not the best people to ask.

In reply to an gwynne: for balance I hold a completely diametrically opposed view to what Steve Has posted.

Steve uses poetry as an intellectual plinth and when on other poetry forums he causes fractures by trying to impose his view and rigid thought processes. So he doesnt speak for all of us pretentious enough to believe we have a poetic bent.
In reply to Steve Parker: I had a side bet with another forum user half an hour ago that youd react by saying it was a personal attack. You always do.
 Yanis Nayu 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey: Fair play Fawksey, you were right.
In reply to Fawksey: I could name non poets who have relationship problems.
I could name poets who I dont believe are egotists and who communicate very well with the opposite sex ie: John Clare, Donne, Neruda ad infinitum
In reply to Fawksey: "Poets are generally egotistical people who care more for self-expression than they do for communication. The best poets have usually been very bad at relationships. These seem often to be mutually exclusive disciplines.

We are probably not the best people to ask."

Or Steve is a generally egotistical person who cares more for self-expression than he does for communication. The best poets (Steve) have usually been very bad at relationships. These seem often to be mutually exclusive disciplines.

We are (He is) probably not the best people (person) to ask.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

This poetry thread maintained itself for a few years without your intevention. If you can't control yourself, then please leave it alone.

Thanks.

johnj 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

I'm a Poet but I don't even know it
I once had a girlfriend she was a Devon It Girl
but she said she didn't want a student boyfriend
as it made her toes curl

I could go on
for far too long
but it's time now for me to stop
to sit on the loo and have a good plop...

Long time an all, hope you're keeping well :+)
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to johnj:

Hey JJ.

Saturday Wimoweh:

youtube.com/watch?v=oUMwu_gXK7Q&
johnj 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker: Eyup, I see you've gone back to the world where the small people live.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to johnj:

Nah, I'm just a child! Didn't have to go back, was already there.

I am using that video to try to trick my 6 year old son into learning to hold a note. Been a lot of idiot dancing around the room shouting WIMOWEH so far, from both of us.

EEK.
 upordown 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

ha ha, I love the expressions on the hippo's face! I'm off to look for a child to wimoweh with.
In reply to Steve Parker: Sorry Steve but just because I gave the lady an alternative view than just your own (however much you want to be you are not the official voice of the poetry thread) does not mean that you have to be such an arrogant prick. Try not to make the same mistake on here that youve made trying to moderate other poetry forums.

Youre incapable of moving planets.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

If you want to slag people off, this isn't the place. It spoils the atmosphere of the thread. Please do it somewhere else. My email address is steveparker333@live.com if you really feel the need.

Peace etc.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

> New Theme: bipolar behaviour

so all mysticke aver and even yet
beholden still and still ever to fret
that animus which tide doth errant set
in force and face a farce is there upset

In reply to Steve Parker: I wasnt slagging people off. I gave an alternative view to someone. You want me to stop making comments on this forum and yet you make your statements on this public forum but want me to reply to you in private?

If youre not careful I will publish the emails from poetry forum moderators that resigned because of your dictatorial attitude.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Steve Parker) I wasnt slagging people off. I gave an alternative view to someone. You want me to stop making comments on this forum and yet you make your statements on this public forum but want me to reply to you in private?

Go and read your comments above and tell me you weren't slagging me off.
>
> If youre not careful I will publish the emails from poetry forum moderators that resigned because of your dictatorial attitude.

You are referring to one person called Jodi. He was a moderator on our poetry site but was never there. After about 8 months of him not participating I complained to him that he wasn't pulling his weight. He freaked out and sent out that email after I rather trustingly allowed him into the admin box. It turned out that his mother had died shortly beforehand, which I hadn't known about. It would have made a difference. He has since apologised for sending that email.



In reply to Steve Parker: This what you took exception too

"an gwynne: for balance I hold a completely diametrically opposed view to what Steve Has posted.

Steve uses poetry as an intellectual plinth and when on other poetry forums he causes fractures by trying to impose his view and rigid thought processes. So he doesnt speak for all of us pretentious enough to believe we have a poetic bent."


and then this "there are non poets who have relationship problems.
I could name poets who I dont believe are egotists and who communicate very well with the opposite sex ie: John Clare, Donne, Neruda ad infinitum"


These are what you decided were a personal attack on yourself. You removed your replies.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

If you actually want to know the truth about all that, ask Notelvis (Weaver), as she was the other admin there at that time. Her contact details are available at criticalpoet.org.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Steve Parker) This what you took exception too

> Steve uses poetry as an intellectual plinth and when on other poetry forums he causes fractures by trying to impose his view and rigid thought processes. So he doesnt speak for all of us pretentious enough to believe we have a poetic bent."

> These are what you decided were a personal attack on yourself.

And this is not a personal attack? What is it then?

I removed my reply because I decided not to engage confrontationally on this thread. I am sticking with that. I don't mind doing it elsewhere, but I'm not doing it here.

In reply to Steve Parker: but so far youve done all of your confrontation on this thread
In reply to Steve Parker:

"I'm not entirely convinced you and they would get on in the normal forums, though! I suspect there might be personality clashes, like putting a hedgehog and a porcupine in a basket together... "

How insightful
OP Sandrine 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey and Steve:

Enough please.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

Erm, I made a general point about poets, slightly tongue in cheek, referring largely to caricatures, to which you responded with a personal attack on me.

This is beyond ridiculous now and I am ignoring any further comments.
 Steve Parker 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Fawksey and Steve)
>
> Enough please.

Was enough before it started.

OP Sandrine 14 Aug 2010
Can anyone help with this please?

http://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?n=421093
In reply to Steve Parker: You have a history recorded and available to anyone who wishes to go through the various archived threads of believing that any response to you that is not in agreement is a personal attack.
In reply to Sandrine: Bi polar.

I can hear the rain pouring off the roof
and it gargling down the grates.

I can imagine it, a dark liquidity
washing the colour from my slates.



 waterbaby 14 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

NT: Summer Nights

As the heat leaves the ground
the soaked up smell of hot tarmac
heaves a sigh of relief and battles
with the scent of damp grass
to make you reminisce of summers past

the clink of glasses and subdued chatter
hangs in the still night air
over every fence, activity

in another county to the west
a field of multi-coloured nylon
music beats and cheer
wellies and umbrellas parked in readiness
for the rain that will invariably appear.

Hot contours in the darkness
Fingers trace slick, muscular curves
Melting, in an endorphin heap.

 Steve Parker 15 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

> Anyway, be good to see you around the place if you do drop in. And let me know if I've improved at all over the years!

I definitely will, but will try to put up something that makes sense on that site. I agree with your point about different traditions etc, so I'll attempt to make it more PFFA. No doubt it will get deservedly trashed.

Next couple of weeks anyway.

:0)
 Steve Parker 15 Aug 2010
In reply to kamala:

BTW, for some unknown reason I have swung back to some deep love of the Metaphysical guys at the moment, and they are overshadowing all my stuff. I really want to write a straightforward Metaphysical poem like Marvell or someone. I am trying quite hard to learn their stuff.

Pure indulgence I guess.
 Steve Parker 15 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Notelvis is doing a poetry reading at the Winnipeg Art Gallery on Sept 25. I know no one here is likely to make it, but just wanted to big her up a little and wish her well. She's made it into a couple of anthologies now, and is also starting reading. Got my respect anyway.
 kamala 16 Aug 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
Well done to notelvis! Nice to hear how she's doing, and that she's going strong.

 kamala 16 Aug 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Sounds like you've had some good summer nights! Here are mine:


Shivering in midge cloud, watching
Welsh mists hide the shooting stars.
 John Lewis 16 Aug 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

I liked that, not sure the last verse added anythig for me, but really liked it thanks!
 waterbaby 19 Aug 2010
In reply to John Lewis:


Thanks John

I'm off on hols in the morning for 2 weeks, then straight up to the Lakes to do the swim
http://www.justgiving.com/Vicki-Gibbon

Wish me luck!
 Fidget 20 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

> Enough please.

I agree!

> Summer night

Riding Nyx, primodial goddess of the night
in the darkening sky of a summer's twilight
renting through the unsuspecting balmy lull
creating our own noise, that encompassing up and down growl
precise, fast; secretive, immanent
like the cross of a panther and an owl
our fixed beam tracing a path to follow
as we dip side to side in sequence, wheels whirling us effortlessly through
senses intensified with that singular focus
rushing wind feather light
tender grip not curled tight
eyes fixed on that red spot guide
no distractions in the monochrome to the side
natural, as one
as though made for nothing else but this, individually or together
we ride


Criticism welcome. I've been thinking on the above for a while now, and struggled to write it. Came out 'okay' and I think I got my point across, but a bit jerky and 'unpoetic' (although may have masked that in the end, it was worse!). I just can't get my head into this poetry lark any more, I'm having the most trouble reading and absorbing what other people have written and that's where I get my (style, not subject) inspiration from.

Fawksey - speaking of bikes, I shall be riding past your way later tonight on my way to the wonderful Dales.

 AlisonSmiles 20 Aug 2010
In reply to Fidget:

It reminded me of one of my works in progress somehow, thought I'd share.

Biker jacket

That black leather biker jacket sowed
a sultry whisper in my subconscious.
Actually thats not where the kernal grew.
It burrowed somewhere deeper and darker,
where swelling flesh both unseen and taboo
awaits a glimpse of promised ardour.
I opened a door I'd long left unanswered,
and with a courageous measure of wine
I found the words to describe the absurd,
this thing I'd encountered, not through design,
which had somehow liberated silent desires,
that now released fade to ash in the fire.
 Fidget 20 Aug 2010
In reply to AlisonSmiles:

Thanks for sharing, I can visualise some of the feeling and like the imagery of a hidden away door being knocked on until you heard it again.

However as I claimed above I've been struggling to read and absorb poetry lately and I'm not sure if the last line is positive or sour.
 Fidget 20 Aug 2010
In reply to AlisonSmiles:

Ooh ignore me, I just read it a different way and I now understand the desires faded to ash! Before I was reading "released fade" which didn't make sense (muppet).
 Alyson 23 Aug 2010
In reply to the protagonists:

I wanted to be a poet
but struggled with the requisite






detachment.







I sat in a cold place, on bare stone
and tried to keep warm
with words like incandescence
and inferno
but I never got a flame
(and the marshmallows didn't bubble up the same)

So I locked myself in a box
away from people and their complicated passions
and tried to conjure up some love
from 'concupiscence', 'ardor', 'rapture', 'relish'
but they tasted dry
without skin to lick them off.

Love was too big, so I played
with butterfly words, but I knew
that the Common blue
was a snippet trimmed from the corner of a summer sky
only because I'd seen one fly.


 Fidget 23 Aug 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Lovely.
 kamala 23 Aug 2010
In reply to Alyson:

I do like that, very much.
 SuperstarDJ 24 Aug 2010
In reply to Alyson:

I like this, particularly the 'snippet trimmed from the corner of a summer sky', lovely image. I think you're writing about something I was trying get at myself from a different angle.




The Kiln

The kiln of my heart is overflowing
Red-hot and blistering
And the words I fashion to hold the spilling feelings
Are frail and coarse
A child’s clay fingered fumblings

My tongue twists and buckles
Cracked-choked voice
and what should be gossamer fine and filigreed
Is black and deformed
As ugly and cold as cinders

I would pour my love straight into your heart
Breathe a drowning breath of life into your lungs
vast and colourful and ever changing,
an armada of butterflies
vast as the ocean
deep enough to drown a city

Perhaps my words could rouse an ember into a bonfire.
But not strike sparks.




 SuperstarDJ 24 Aug 2010
In reply to Fidget:

I've never ridden a bike though this makes me wish I had!

In terms of criticism, I'd very hestitantly say that maybe you could not worry about the rhymes in this and take them out. That's probably what's making it jerky. From the poem I imagine the feeling on the bike is of pure natural flow and so by making it rhyme you're losing a bit of what you're describing. I suppose I'm thinking about the rhythm of something like Auden's 'Night Train', which is all about the clackety clack of the train on the track and something the rhyming really works with , wheras on a bike it's more about the swooping smoothness of the ride.

Hope that make sense and feel free to ignore me - from my efforts it's pretty clear I'm no expert I enjoyed it anyway.

David.
 Fidget 24 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

Thanks for the feedback! I didn't initially write it to rhyme, I wrote it the same way I write most of my stuff - scribble down words, phrases, lines. Combine them and bulk the words out into phrases or lines. If anything rhymes (or more likely just fits, not fussed about exact lines) I'll rearrange the lines so the poem gets some kind of form, not necessarily so that the rhymey bits are together but just to prevent the wrong lines being accidentally linked.

Useful to hear whether this actually gets me anywhere or not though! I think normally my rhymey bits are so inexact they're not noticeable, whereas they are here (just by chance).
 SuperstarDJ 25 Aug 2010
In reply to Fidget:
> (In reply to SuperstarDJ)
>
> Thanks for the feedback! I didn't initially write it to rhyme, I wrote it the same way I write most of my stuff - scribble down words, phrases, lines. Combine them and bulk the words out into phrases or lines. If anything rhymes (or more likely just fits, not fussed about exact lines) I'll rearrange the lines so the poem gets some kind of form, not necessarily so that the rhymey bits are together but just to prevent the wrong lines being accidentally linked.
>
> Useful to hear whether this actually gets me anywhere or not though! I think normally my rhymey bits are so inexact they're not noticeable, whereas they are here (just by chance).

I think that you are definitely getting somewhere, the poem does put me in mind of what it must be like. I'm going to cheekily suggest other things I think you might consider.

From my reading of it, the themes that you've got are...

The progression from twilight to night.
That the bike's almost a living thing.
Of the rider and the bike transforming into one.

I liked the darkening sky and then the monochrome night and would have liked more of an idea of how it changed so I could imagine the journey, the progression of time passing.

You compare the bike to a living thing (growling, panther, owl), which is nice. Maybe continue with this image in other lines, like the 'tender grip' could be a caress or a squeeze of encouragement or something, like a jockey on a thouroughbred maybe.

Again, I like the idea of most of your senses dwindling and the red light you're following becoming the focus of you. I'd maybe try and write something about you and the bike at the end of the journey, how it sits there, pinging of the cooling engine, reverting back to being just a lump of metal and how you go back to being yourself, fuller but maybe feeling you lost something too. You were this glorious union and now you're just man and machine again. It'd make it more of a journey, having the bike 'dead' or sleeping at the end would contrast to what you've already got and add a nice note of something (I'd make it melancholy but that's me - miserable at the moment - you could make it happy too, like being able to transform again whenever you need to escape or something).

Actually, I don't really like your first line. You talk about a goddess and introduce something primordial but then don't pick up the theme. Maybe try to weave that in or lose it? It seems the poem is about you and the bike and it doesn't really help.

Sorry to waffle on. Hope this is useful, as I keep saying I did like the poem and it did stimulate me, otherwise I wouldn't have anything to talk about.

Cheers,

David.

 Fidget 25 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

Thanks again! My replies below aren't arguing what you said, I've taken it all on board, just offering my original thoughts to keep the cogs whirring in my head.

The transition from twilight to night was accidental, I was just trying to avoid saying 'night' twice. If anything there was no transition, the only movement was the bike and the environment was kind of frozen in time, kind of shocked I guess from being rented in two. Hence no extra 'back home again' section (that could be a different poem though certainly).

The senses dwindling and singular focus (without missing anything else, as nothing else is as important or special as the bike) was definitely the main focus of the poem, I'm glad that came across.

Hmm, the environment frozen in time could be something I put in, and that would explain why there are no distractions. I see a potential second draft now! My wordsworth-ness would still be missing but my feelings might be clearer. Thanks for helping me pin it down!

The first line came about because my bike is called Nyx, and Nyx is the primordial goddess of the night (simple! Hehe). This wouldn't be obvious to a generic reader though so I can see how it doesn't seem to fit in, but the 'goddess of the night' is key to me, riding at night probably wouldn't be as much fun (can't see potential grease on the road etc) if it wasn't for that nominal link.




 SuperstarDJ 25 Aug 2010
In reply to Fidget:
> (In reply to SuperstarDJ)
>
> Thanks again! My replies below aren't arguing what you said, I've taken it all on board, just offering my original thoughts to keep the cogs whirring in my head.
>

Argue away, it's your poem and I suppose the point of writing it is to say how you felt.

> The transition from twilight to night was accidental, I was just trying to avoid saying 'night' twice. If anything there was no transition, the only movement was the bike and the environment was kind of frozen in time, kind of shocked I guess from being rented in two. Hence no extra 'back home again' section (that could be a different poem though certainly).
>
> The senses dwindling and singular focus (without missing anything else, as nothing else is as important or special as the bike) was definitely the main focus of the poem, I'm glad that came across.
>
> Hmm, the environment frozen in time could be something I put in, and that would explain why there are no distractions. I see a potential second draft now! My wordsworth-ness would still be missing but my feelings might be clearer. Thanks for helping me pin it down!
>

Yeah, that would be nice, the idea of hanging endlessly in that moment.

Seconds drafts are good. I find that I get a load of stuff in a rush (if I don't then it's probably not something I continue with), but then I need to impose some order on it, or work out what I'm actually on about. I usually do this in a 'second sitting' or more than one. Take out clunking words or try to make lines I don't like work better and as you say, pin down what I'm actually writing about. I think of it as the right brain splurging out all these colours and shapes and then the left brain trying to give them structure and discipline.

> The first line came about because my bike is called Nyx, and Nyx is the primordial goddess of the night (simple! Hehe). This wouldn't be obvious to a generic reader though so I can see how it doesn't seem to fit in, but the 'goddess of the night' is key to me, riding at night probably wouldn't be as much fun (can't see potential grease on the road etc) if it wasn't for that nominal link.

Ok - I can see why you put it in! You could talk about why your bike's named that?

 Fidget 25 Aug 2010
In reply to SuperstarDJ:

I've never reworked a poem. My brain just clams up trying to add new structure, but maybe one day it'll work!
Yrmenlaf 26 Aug 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

On a midnight
The moon might switch
From wax to wane
Or back again:
Mid summer?
Mid winter?
Who cares?

Y.
 Fidget 01 Sep 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Not for a NT, just because I feel giddy today and inspired:


sun beams give not just warmth, but
power. not power to harm, or overflow,
but to be strong in spirit, happy inside
inspired.
draw a breath and power courses through,
take energy from the air,
it doesn't deplete it, because there's
infinite.
recycle the vigour, dance to a
personal tune, find the
rhythm where you coincide with the breeze
twirl, easy and carefree
 Alyson 01 Sep 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Winter Child

I kiss your pale head
and fold white blankets
around the quiet of you,

read a tale I know you'll love.
A dragon imprisoned in a tower
guarded by a jealous prince.

It ends well, as all stories must,
when the princess rides to the rescue.
I stroke a wisp of blonde across your skull.

Cool bone. Cool skin.
A grave nurse walks in.

Thank you winter child
for nine months of spring.
 Yanis Nayu 03 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson: A corker!
 SuperstarDJ 07 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Vivid. Really liked that.
 Steve Parker 07 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Nicely done. If it's based in reality then you just broke my heart.

I wonder how many times across the world this experience happens every day.
Yrmenlaf 07 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

I've read this a few times now: it has not faded.

Y.
 Alyson 08 Sep 2010
In reply to Steve Parker: Thanks everyone for the nice responses.

It's based in reality but not mine; that of someone I know. I felt intrusive trying to wear their shoes. Is there an arrogance in attempting to imagine such feelings and express them if you haven't lived them?
 Steve Parker 08 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Big question that, and it probably depends entirely upon how well you do it. Would you feel safe imagining yourself into the state of mind of a starving child in Africa to write a poem from that POV? I wouldn't, but maybe if you were able to empathise sufficiently and you pulled it off really well, then it would almost become part of that emotional landscape. People have managed it sometimes. But even huge respect isn't necessarily a guarantee of not being intrusive. Maybe only real empathy can do that, alongside some skill and some luck.

But there's another side to it too, which is to do with someone having been so moved by someone else's experience that they felt driven to try to express both that experience and their own experience of it.

Or maybe that's just a longer way of saying 'empathy'.

Felt like you were there anyway, which is no doubt why it worked. I also think the calmness of it was the most lethal element. It had some of that Ezra Pound Oriental quality of understatement and just quietly acknowledging something huge.

Cool poem anyway. You should get it published somewhere.

 Alyson 16 Sep 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:
> (In reply to Alyson)
>
> You should get it published somewhere.


You make it sound so easy!

Would anyone care to leave a theme please? It's been a while.
In reply to Alyson: autumn?
 Alyson 16 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey: Lovely! I'll think on that. Night F.
In reply to Alyson: night Jimbob
 Alyson 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

The pulse of the tree has slowed,
her blood has cooled, dark spots
appear on the backs of her leaf hands,
dry
papery
her veins show through like river deltas.

The redstarts which nested in her heart
have long since flown
and she mourns the loss with each red leaf
quivering on its slender stem.

A building of rooks rise and tumble
against the sunset
like black ash from a bonfire;
settle on her empty limbs.

I imagine my skin falling away in autumn
when the knife wind strips me clean,
leaving my bare bones stark
against a wrinkled sky.

Asleep in the stone hard earth,
I will still dream of my redstart
sheltering in me.
 waterbaby 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Lovely poem Alyson.
 Alyson 17 Sep 2010
In reply to waterbaby: Thanks! Any chance you'd like to spin me a new theme?

Plus, does anyone know how Sandrine is? She hasn't posted for a while.
 waterbaby 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:

Hmm....new theme? Wild Garden?

Not seen Sandrine around here for a while, perhaps she's in the doldrums like me
 Alyson 17 Sep 2010
In reply to waterbaby: Nice theme, I'll have a think about that one when I go on my lunch.

Sorry to hear you're in the doldrums - maybe a breeze will pick up soon to fill your sails. I'm feeling particularly happy and floaty today so I'm probably not much help :-S
 waterbaby 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Alyson:
> (In reply to waterbaby) Nice theme, I'll have a think about that one when I go on my lunch.
>
> Sorry to hear you're in the doldrums - maybe a breeze will pick up soon to fill your sails. I'm feeling particularly happy and floaty today so I'm probably not much help :-S

I had gathered that Maybe I'll catch a bit of the breeze you're floating on....waft it this way
 waterbaby 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Alyson) autumn?

How the Summer flew
away over swollen rivers, as fast as
the streak of the Kingfisher’s gold and blue.

There’s a nip in the air
the last of the green tomatoes hang
eying up the empty jam jars, scattered everywhere.

Stomachs crave hearty food
by soup and stews and crumbles
we’ll all soon be wooed

The growers among us, will put our apples to bed
the skeleton tree will stand waiting
only sleeping, as Alyson said.


In reply to Alyson:

Man on a Motorbike

Its in the light, a thinness.
The north is coming on migrating wings.

At Widdop I am riding through a photograph
and near the scout hut the dead ewe
has Sylvia's grandma teeth.
It looks colder at the side of the road
in the dark,
Than the churchyard at Heptonstall
could possibly be.

At Slack the road is wide
and the cold pours in
like water through a lock gate.
The light from stars clear the water
in the mill pond
and the fish lie in torpor.

The man on his motorbike urges on
towards Hebden Bridge
and behind him the night returns.
 Alyson 17 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey: That's fantastic, I love it.
Yrmenlaf 19 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

I love poems like that, with a real sense of a specific place. Well done.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 19 Sep 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

A snowdrop lane
Where one heart cleaves
To another
Becomes a romp
Through autumn leaves
With a lover.

Y.
In reply to Yrmenlaf: I love snow drops and can picture them now on a certain lane.

I changed the end.

Man on a Motorbike

Its in the light, a thinness.
The north is coming on migrating wings.

At Widdop I am riding through a photograph
and near the scout hut the dead ewe
has Sylvia's grandma teeth.
It looks colder at the side of the road
in the dark,
Than the churchyard at Heptonstall
could possibly be.

At Slack the road is wide
and the cold pours in
like water through a lock gate.
The light from stars clear the water
in the mill pond
and the fish lie in torpor.

The man on his motorbike urges on
towards Hebden Bridge
and behind him silence returns.

But not the same silence as before.
OP Sandrine 02 Oct 2010
Hello poets.

NT: a long distance
 kamala 02 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Hey S, long time no see - hope you're well.
No poetry in me at the moment but that's a good theme. At least the others are writing well, when they're writing...
K
OP Sandrine 02 Oct 2010
In reply to kamala:

Hi K. I almost knew I could count on your presence.
 waterbaby 02 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Sandrine where have you been? I'm mostly unable to do this anymore, so I apologise for what spews forth.


NT Long Distance

A virtual humpback
flicks it’s tail
rides the crest
feels the thrill.

Never seen
never felt.

A virtual humpback
flicks it’s tail
engulfed by a wave
of despair.

 psychomansam 02 Oct 2010
With Memories


She left
like
autumns leaves
on the first frozen breeze

I'm left
like
shrunken clothes
in the bottom draw of life

We're left
with
memories

with memories
OP Sandrine 03 Oct 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

It's an interesting take. Don't apologise.

I have been away and busy, and not motivated for a while.

OP Sandrine 03 Oct 2010
In reply to psychomansam:

Hi there, welcome to the poetry thread. Memories are good: a thick balsamic syrup to glaze one's brain.
OP Sandrine 03 Oct 2010
NT: let live
 Steve Parker 03 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: let live

a moment in 1892:
a street cart in Passau
rumbles down on a child
carelessly dropped
but the driver sees it in time
his heart is merciful
he slows up
lets it live

a moment in 1942 in Berlin:
the street cart rumbles down
that same old road
but this time
the answers are different

this time the driver says no
no, forever
as he nears the same child
laid out there wailing
and a parent dashes out

all over town they are hanging
the drapes already

laughing like Slavic monkeys



.


.





OP Sandrine 04 Oct 2010
In reply to Steve Parker:

Strong images there. I was wondering whether they were really slavic?


NT: the right amount
Yrmenlaf 04 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> Hello poets.
>
> NT: a long distance

A right turn from Fairbrook Naze -
And soon the black walls loom:
The blue-bronze sky shrinks
The air grows cool.

A trail of bootprints in the gold -
As if Ariadne had left strung pearls
To lead you onwards, backwards
As the way ahead unfurls.

Y.
OP Sandrine 06 Oct 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

I liked the idea of a blue-bronze sky.


NT: please note
In reply to Sandrine:

Loch of the Night

Loch na h'Oichde
shone upwards like a bowl of light
and then the rain fell hard
and tried to drive it from its hollow.
Beating it to the colour of pewter
between the hammer and the anvil.

Can one lie make all the truths
you ever told into lies?

You are my yellow daffodils
that sit on the windowsill
and spill beauty into that dark space.
OP Sandrine 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Fawksey:

It feels eerie these daffodils in the autumn. I liked it.


NT: solo concert
 Alyson 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: the right amount

I eat my ricicles by the score.
Twenty per spoonful
and not a single more.

With toast, then integers are a must -
I don't do fractions
and I won't leave crust.

Mojitos must be in permutable primes -
71 ml of dark rum
and 3 juiced limes.
 Alyson 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Fawksey)

> NT: solo concert

Rime grips black twigs
fog shatters against a cold white sun

a temple squeeze
below the freezing point of daylight.

The river catches
against her stony banks, holds fast,

startling beneath
swans rendered inelegant on her sweep.

In hardened air
a tiny cloud of breath from sudden throat,

hot beauty
in the robin's liquid January song.
In reply to Alyson:

We are the hollow men
We are the Scarecrow
interdependent
head stuffed with straw.
Alas! Whisper when we're together when
we dry voice
no ups and downs no sense
paper, as wind in dry grass
or walk like a mouse in our dry
broken glass in the cellar
this way the world ends
In this way the world ends
ended in this way the world
but not a loud bang is heard
boo.


 Alyson 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Fawksey: Boo! Where's that from? Who wrote it?
In reply to Alyson: ah now I wrote it but!
 Alyson 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Fawksey: but...?
In reply to Alyson: Its a translation from chinese done by the computer of the wife of the Nobel Peace Prize winner Lui Xiaobo currently in jail in China.

Its a computer translation of her twitter
 Alyson 12 Oct 2010
In reply to Fawksey: I kind of like it, thanks for posting it. Tomorrow I'm going to try walking like a mouse.
In reply to Alyson: I think reading poetry is so important to me now. More than music ever was. At least I can place it in some kind of context. In the library in Sheffield is an exhibition of the photographer Fay Goodwin. The pictures are black and white landscapes that illustrated Ted Hughes Remains of Elmet. Those pictures are of my journey to work everyday and I travel through Hughes birth place Mytholmroyd and I am his Man on a motorbike! When I saw the hare this morning in my headlights I'm instantly in his Hare poem. It makes getting up at 4.30am every day to work 12 hours for 6.50 an hour bearable. The person who opened my eyes to this has done more for me than any medication could ever do.
 waterbaby 15 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> NT: let live

I'm going back a bit now. I started this on a run and it evolved.

I caught a floating leaf
I caught it in my hand
Did I save it from salvation
Or from being damned?

I caught a floating leaf
I caught it in my hand
I held it very gently
I didn’t have a plan

I grasped at those few moments
While life was living yet
To hold you close
As if, we had only just met

I watched you slowly fade
As curtains in the sun
Your will sadly dwindled
Your time with me done.
 Dee 16 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Fawksey)
>
> It feels eerie these daffodils in the autumn. I liked it.
>
>
> NT: solo concert

Solo concert
edge sidepull
schistsloper smear
harnesslos
ropefrei focused
internal orchestra of one
solo ascent:-
concert of rock & climber.

Unfallen.

elsewhere
another concert
Little children await
patient partner
recalls promises
re:- rope use

autumnal daffodils
frostshiver
await winter's
solo concert.

 Tdubs 16 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
A poor solo performance.

Turmoil, if not resolved, is at least silenced
Internal debate simmering and squashed
I step up to climb, head dizzy with violence
I do not deliver a flawless performance
The near-mythical zone is not found here
Slapping, slipping and swearing, my palms sweat
The zinc taste of folly and fear
Shaking and sickened, I only just win my self-bet

I don't feel cleansed and I don't feel controlled
As I stroll to my local I question my motives.
Hands trembling and chalky, my cigarettes poorly rolled
Sucking in smoke and shame like I've slapped my own mother.
Yrmenlaf 16 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Close your eyes:
There are two voices here -
Melodies entwine, harmonise

In counterpoint
Repeat a phrase, a line
Then in unison conjoined.

Y.

In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Near The Packhorse
I saw the black bunny running
with the brown ones
as my twin headlight roar
drove them hither.

and you said
perhaps it is dead
and that it is its shadow
that still runs in the field
and I remarked that perhaps
its cold body lay besides the road
and you thought that sad.

Becasue you thought of us.
 Mark Edwards 22 Oct 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: solo concert

Silence, apprehension, expectation
And it begins

Opening moments exploring the space
Confidence bordering on arrogance
Quelling the apprehension
Of first night nerves

Committed to the chosen path
To satisfy the harshest critic
Rehearsal and experience
Becomes the performance

Like water running downhill
Progression is inevitable
And necessary
Guided by unknowable forces
The end foreseeable
The route uncertain

A crescendo
Then the winding down
A twist in the tail
And its over
Silence, reflection, elation

When the critic smiles
 Alyson 27 Oct 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Alyson) Those pictures are of my journey to work everyday and I travel through Hughes birth place Mytholmroyd and I am his Man on a motorbike! When I saw the hare this morning in my headlights I'm instantly in his Hare poem.



Vespertine


You roar across the peeling edge of daylight
while the blue of dusk pours in behind
as cold water into a shallow bowl.

An owl, weightless, glides along the roadside,
rides your wave of displaced space
watching for a sudden scatter of field mouse

in the long grass. We write ourselves
onto this landscape already pencilled with stories,
as the past watches us with wide moon-eyes

and ears laid flat. Our ghosts dwell here -
imprints of light left on photographic film -
as night closes in like the shutting of an eye.




I like your venus mound
how it pushes out bravely.
Like a high cheekbone
of a proud woman.

 Alyson 02 Nov 2010
In reply to Fawksey:
>
>
> I like your venus mound

Themes were never like this when Sandrine was around!
In reply to Alyson: well venus is a morning and an evening star so relevent to Vespertine and matutine
 Alyson 02 Nov 2010
In reply to Fawksey: True! How can I argue with that?

I love venus, how she sits so rich and fecund in the deep evening sky. Also, she has a great quirk for language-lovers such as poets...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cytherean
In reply to Alyson: and does not venus chart our life through the heavens? From birth to death. Bone white.
 Alyson 02 Nov 2010
In reply to Fawksey: I think I might make 'bone white' my next theme, it has a lot of places it could go.

Night F!
In reply to Alyson: Night
 Mark Edwards 03 Nov 2010
In the woods in the dark
The dog and me what a lark
The only colours black and blue
Some LED's to see me through
Dogs don't believe in ghosts and ghouls
Those on two legs the real fools
A shadow rushing low and near
heartbeat up a taste of fear
A shadow from my moving light
Sure gave me a real good fright
 waterbaby 10 Nov 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Deep shade cast as an overcoat
over the valley
it’s floor like white linoleum.
The tops of the trees caught
in a crackle of fiery orange
as the morning sun rose
over mountain peaks held still
in a blue formica sky
the whole of me sighs
my feet step with purpose
layers shed, as I climb.

I stood atop of Striding Edge
the weight long since lifted
replaced by a feeling of privilege
all the while I think of you
who should have been here too.

Yrmenlaf 10 Nov 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Nice

Y.
 Steve Parker 15 Nov 2010
In reply to Alyson:
> (In reply to Fawksey)
> [...]
>
> Themes were never like this when Sandrine was around!

Yes, they were. We covered everything. Sandrine is a very fine human being.



 AlisonSmiles 16 Nov 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

I like it. Just curious as to why you stood atop rather than stood on top ... but then I get a little hung up sometimes on natural language! I like the linoleum and formica bits and very vaguely wonder if the overcoat reference might be played with to fit the image of manmade surfaces that you've created with those.

I really liked it ... or I wouldn't comment at all so hope you're OK with discussion!
Yrmenlaf 17 Nov 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

By rights there should be silence
A solitude in the sighing wind,
An empty summit.
Yet crowds throng this ridge
And I, as one of them,
Find shelter, and share sandwiches,
A thermos of soup with the view.

Here is an aching emptiness -
A longing for the one
Who is forever absent
From the high places.

Y.
 waterbaby 22 Nov 2010
In reply to AlisonSmiles:

Sorry I've not looked here for a while.

Thank You I've not written anything I've been happy with in ages, apart from this one. I don't mind the discussion

I suppose 'atop' was what naturally came to mind. I could imagine Wainwright saying it. I've had to think on this, my grammar isn't all that good but technically, I think it was ok to use it.

I really don't know but would be interested to know. Anyone wants to put me straight, feel free, my nose might bleed but I have tissues, lol!
 waterbaby 22 Nov 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

That's the reality of it

I like your version, it rings true.
OP Sandrine 27 Nov 2010
Morning, morning poets!

NT: solid solitudes.
 Steve Parker 27 Nov 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

there are no solid solitudes
all of those lonelinesses wilt and melt

monks and nuns might claim this space
and claim it be deep and heartfelt

but anyone with a heart
however it's spelt

would yearn for another
to unbuckle its belt

.
 Steve Parker 27 Nov 2010
In reply to waterbaby:
>
>
> I suppose 'atop' was what naturally came to mind. I could imagine Wainwright saying it. I've had to think on this, my grammar isn't all that good but technically, I think it was ok to use it.


There's nothing technically wrong with 'atop'. I think Alison was just referring to the fact that it's a bit of a 'folky' thing, and not as modern or neutral as just saying 'on top of', or something like that. It's definitely not 'wrong', but I wouldn't use it either because of the folky thing. All down to taste really.
In reply to Sandrine:

You had asked me to wait for you in the field by the barn
And yet here you were now a priestess on the sixty - fourth floor
Of your lizard temple
On the other side of the world.

And here I was still riding behind my twin moons
On the dark road as always fearing I will ride it forever
By the black reservoir
cold for eternity.

As dark and as cold a place as the depths of the reservoir itself.
And me a muddy fish in the darkness
and you as unknown to me as a bird
that might flick over the moor.

Like a cold hooded pale eye the moon was drawing me into its cold face.
When up you sprang in the form of a doolally hare
between the twin walls
where the road goes by Coldwell.
OP Sandrine 30 Nov 2010
Cool stuff!


NT: warming soup
 Tdubs 30 Nov 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Back aching from not sitting straight in
This stiff unforgiving chair
I've left it too late to be creating
My much needed dinner, so what is there?

Hunting through my fridge like Howard Carter
Except theres no treasure here
F*ck all in the cupboards and larder
But some ancient meat and veg, I fear

Brown it up with onion and flour
I toss in some greens and celery
Empty stomach, a late hour
I'm always feeding myself carelessly

My hungry stomach performs a coup
Splashing down my face from the bowl
This warming meat-and-veg soup
My premature, watery, casserole!

Sorry its terrible but it was so apt that this topic popped up I felt the need to write bad poetry. Now I must wipe my chin.
Yrmenlaf 30 Nov 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

One gloved hand
Sweeps snow from a stone

Sit or stand
This wind chills the bone

Rucksack open
Find the flask

Here's hoping
For warmth at last

Y.
 waterbaby 01 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> Cool stuff!
>
>
> NT: warming soup

Eating soup at my table
hundreds of miles from your door
I wonder what you are doing now.
I remember a time when we ate together
how you couldn’t wait to clear the table
couldn’t wait to lay me out
to trace my hips with no ounce of doubt
how I wish you were here now
but you’re hundreds of miles from my door
our relationship holding once more.
As the warmth spreads through me
I pass my hand over the table
a vision of urgent passion remains
an ache of longing sprouts, somewhere south
and in slow motion, my heart is wrenched out
OP Sandrine 04 Dec 2010
A gentle push and the poetry thread is rocking again...

NT: the rain after the snow
Yrmenlaf 05 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

The Sky worked hard, as mankind slept
In the watches of the night
To cover earths blemishes, every fault
In a coat of purest white

And then came morning, cold and bright
And man, with shovels and salt
Exposed the dirt to his own sight
The Sky wept.

Y.
OP Sandrine 18 Dec 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

That one had a very Pagan feel to it.

NT: snowball fight
OP Sandrine 18 Dec 2010
Anyone in?
 kamala 18 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Been in all day, apart from when wallowing outdoors to put the bin out...
Four inches of snow here, but no poetry (except other people's).

How're you?
OP Sandrine 18 Dec 2010
In reply to kamala:

I have been nursing a cold for 10 days now Felt knackered doing a bit of Xmas shopping and had to sit down, exhausted, in between 2 wrappings! Enough!
Anyway, all done now.

And you?
 kamala 18 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
Bad luck with the cold, hope it goes away soon.
Did my Christmas shopping by internet and luckily most of it has arrived.

I signed up to be sent a poem a day by the Academy of American Poets. Loads of interesting things turning up, something new every day. Since I've nothing of my own to put up, here's a random poem I got sent a while back:


Now Winter Nights Enlarge
by Thomas Campion (1567-1620)

Now winter nights enlarge
This number of their hours;
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze
And cups o'erflow with wine,
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights
Sleep's leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense
With lovers' long discourse;
Much speech hath some defense,
Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well:
Some measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys,
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys
They shorten tedious nights.
OP Sandrine 19 Dec 2010
In reply to kamala:

I like his definition of love, although I do not find nights tedious at all, since I adore sleeping!
OP Sandrine 19 Dec 2010
NT: mustard and chorizo sandwich
 waterbaby 24 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Merry Christmas Poetry thread.

Hope you all have a good one and that the New Year inspires us all xx
Yrmenlaf 25 Dec 2010
In reply to waterbaby:

Merry Christmas Waterbaby, and anyone else I've met (or not met) here.

Y.
Yrmenlaf 26 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Yrmenlaf)
>

>
> NT: snowball fight

Here, an edge
Between the blood-red solstice sunset
And the pure white of full moon light.
And silence.

Here, a threshold
Beyond which the pine-wood silence
Whispers with flute, with hoofbeat.
A music

Here, a brink
Beyond which fey revellers throng,
Circle and weave in noiseless song
A dance.

Here, a rune
Writ in hoofprints in the snow
And shimmering, weaved in the weft
Of snowballs

Y.



 waterbaby 27 Dec 2010
In reply to Yrmenlaf: That's lovely, I can picture it in my mind's eye.
 psychomansam 27 Dec 2010
In reply to Alyson:
> (In reply to the protagonists)
>
> I wanted to be a poet
> but struggled with the requisite
>
>
>
>
>
> detachment.
>
>......


I may be late to the party, but that's damn good
 psychomansam 27 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:


Of Snow

Snowballs,
laser guided
arcing high, then low
some meeting targets,
some near misses
but
Little collateral damage
Few civilian casualties
Children throw thousands,
and still sleep at night

Snowballs,
some exploding on impact
some mid-flight
spraying the area
like mortar shells,
but
Thrown even in rage
these missiles
leave only a more white stain

If only the whole world were made
of snow

 chris wyatt 27 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine: happy christmas and new year to all and sundry. I hope you are all well.
 chris wyatt 27 Dec 2010
In reply to Sandrine:

Chorizo - oh so full of
Garlic. Not so ho ho when
its mixed with mustard
up your nose, in your eyes
tears of no emotion soak
your face. Silenced for a mo
you wait, the warmth arrives
your mouth is holy sanitized
 Alyson 01 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

A new leaf?
A clean slate?
A blank page?

Time to pin my hopes up in a pencilled list and watch things stay the same.
 kamala 01 Jan 2011
In reply to Alyson:

This year the blank
rainbow slabs of slate
will bear hints traced
by my rock boots;
the clean page
will glint between
tangled loops
of my handwriting.


Happy New Year! May this next year be good to you and all the other inhabitants of the Poetry Threads.

K
 Pete Ford 01 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:


A bleak, damp and dreary New years eve,
All the better for those projects in the thinking,
we don't want eclipsed by perfect night of moon and stars.
 Alyson 08 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:
> (In reply to Alyson)
> [...]
> >......
>
>
> I may be late to the party, but that's damn good

I may be late in replying but thank you!
 Alyson 08 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
> A gentle push and the poetry thread is rocking again...
>
> NT: the rain after the snow

Don't dribble all that wetness on my smooth whiteness
you can't imagine how it feels
when you melt me

I was cold and still until you came along
and now I'm slipping down the gutter
smiling at the sky.
In reply to Alyson:

She makes the air more sweet
when I walk beside her
and the grass cooler
where she lays.


She brightens with light,
the sun caught hair
and her lips that draw me in
to her daybreak smile.
 Alyson 08 Jan 2011
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Alyson)
>
> daybreak smile.

Nice phrase!
In reply to Alyson: I havent thought of anything to write since I stopped riding over Widdop. Lets rephrase that I havent thought about poetry since I stopped associating with Hughes landscape. Though I bought The Hawk in the Rain for the kindle.
 Alyson 08 Jan 2011
In reply to Fawksey: It ebbs and flows for me too. I'm sorely in need of some inspiration!
In reply to Alyson: nice interpretation on the theme. I like lines 2 and 3 aswell as the unexpected last line.
 AlisonSmiles 09 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

The snow made my road look clean;
grey brown ruts and cracks became pristine
and the cleansing power of the rain
only restored all the hidden shame
of broken paving slabs patched with tarmac,
crumbling kurb stones and crooked drains,
mismatched roof tiles, weeds in guttering,
dog and cat shit now uncovered;
a washed up wonderland rediscovered.
 Alyson 09 Jan 2011
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Alyson) nice interpretation on the theme. I like lines 2 and 3 aswell as the unexpected last line.

Well I seemed to be heading towards this metaphor of someone being corrupted and I thought - who's to say they're not enjoying it?
 Alyson 09 Jan 2011
In reply to AlisonSmiles: I agree with this sentiment entirely!
 John Lewis 11 Jan 2011
In reply to AlisonSmiles:

> The snow made my road look clean


Not quite sure why but I like that, inspiration needed here too.

J
 waterbaby 12 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
> A gentle push and the poetry thread is rocking again...
>
> NT: the rain after the snow

Thought I’d stay this way forever
Thought time would stand still
Though I’d maintain the whiteness
Thought I’d maintain the thrill

Then the heavens opened
And doubt flooded in

It might be a while
Until I see you again
I always excite you
Until boredom sets in.
 psychomansam 13 Jan 2011
White crystals floated calmly
passive-aggressively causing havoc and
unechoing unblemished peace

Far-from-home Arctic winds drew in and
made their bed

And left

Now we're left in this
still-born spring and
brain melting dreariness and
soul-flooding rain and
somehow

I miss the arctic winds
 waterbaby 13 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

It makes mine look incredibly amateur

My poem is not entirely truthful, as it didn't start as a poem about rain after snow, in fact I'm not sure it is at all. It's doing a good impersonation of one though

 John Lewis 13 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby: dont be daft! it's good and I suspect I know what you were thinking.

J
 waterbaby 13 Jan 2011
In reply to John Lewis:

Awww, Thanks John:-D

If you know what it's about could you let me know, last night I knew but then I was a bit tipsy. Now it's a jumble of thoughts.

I was actaully quite pleased with myself then, for having written something again and for giving it two meanings, and writing it in about 5-10mins
 John Lewis 13 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby: Well, and this is how I see it, its about that confidence in your youth that the world will always be this way and you will always be the same, then you mature and see your wrong, and its so so exciting anymore......

Oh and snow melting

J x
In reply to John Lewis: I used to be snow white but I drifted.
 John Lewis 14 Jan 2011
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to John Lewis) I used to be snow white but I drifted.

Like it

hmmmmmmm thinking about neve, snow drifted and hardened by the refrezing thawing process, glistening icey diamonds in flat white expanse, firm to kick into, but with the occasional hidden hole, hollwed from below by still flowing streams or warmpth insulated from the elements, into which to sink unexpectedly now and again.

Might be some inspiration there

How is the job going mate? Fancy a climb at the works on Sunday?

J
 waterbaby 14 Jan 2011
In reply to John Lewis:

It's still a bit of a jumble of meanings. Your take on it is the obvious one but it's out about youth. It's the maudlin ramblings of a drunk waterbaby.

Ooooo.....'Rush' just came on the radio-cool
 waterbaby 14 Jan 2011
In reply to Fawksey:

Nice
 psychomansam 17 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

Just because it has long words doesn't mean it's any good. Personally I don't like it!

Yours seems very human, extremely personal which makes it work well, so much so it made me wonder if it was echoing an actual relationship...
 psychomansam 17 Jan 2011
Not sure of the etiquette, hope this is ok...

NT: Soaked through

 waterbaby 19 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
>
> Just because it has long words doesn't mean it's any good. Personally I don't like it!
>
> Yours seems very human, extremely personal which makes it work well, so much so

I'm good at personal, although they usually end up embelished.

>it made me wonder if it was echoing an actual relationship...

More about me and my relationship with life. I'd rather not expand further

I like that theme. I might try and write something later.
 psychomansam 20 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby: I tried, but got sidetracked! Will have to try again on that topic. I ended up writing this one below to be a song as much as a poem. Don't know if i succeeded, as i can't write music. Bit of a work in progress. Trying to write something for a friend to play. Anyone got any tips on moving from writing poetry to lyrics? Help!


I love the times when it doesn't matter

When we're five nil down in the last few minutes
Fall off the climb and i know i've blown it
When there' s no way home but a midnight taxi
The deadline's gone, not got the facts in
When I'm sat alone in the dentists chair
Sit and watch a mirror cut my hair

I love the times when it doesn't matter
Locked out the house won't let me in
Know I'm alive now, soaked to the skin

I love the times when it doesn't matter
When you let me in you'll love me better
And I'm alive now, soaked to the skin
If you think it matters, just let me in

Soaked to the skin, I'll love you better
And i'll love you now if you think I matter
I love the times when it doesn't matter
Let me in now darling, I'll love you better

 AlisonSmiles 20 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

>
> NT: Soaked through

I'm giving it thought - awaiting the inspiration. I am not going to roll in a puddle in pursuit of this.
 waterbaby 21 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

My keyboard wouldn't work! I wrote a few but wasn't happy with any. This is the best of them.

It was just a small amount at first
spritzing the face
wakened, she ran with grace
it was just a small amount at first
the path was a quagmire though
she slipped and squelched
still with purpose but less grace
then in sheets it descended
polishing the tarnish away
cleansed, the purpose defeated her
yet she plodded labouriously on
stooped now from the weight
soaked through.
Nearly there, nearly there..
 psychomansam 22 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

I like it. Liked it more second time round as I struggled a bit with its density on the first go. Possibly my own rushed reading style, but hey. I really like what it's describing and how concise it is, but it does strike me as not quite reaching its full potential. I feel this way about most poems i write! It's almost great. Might write a poem about that actually.

Still got no inspiration myself! (no, wait)
 waterbaby 25 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

Most of my poems don't reach their full potential. It's frustrating. I can't quite get there. Every now and then, there's one that I feel is perfect. A couple of years ago I was on a roll, now i'm at a standstill
jnymtch 26 Jan 2011


have some bits but, i'm no poet or writer, but had to pass time with sod all to do, paper folding was my thing and still is, rubbish at writing as never done any, id like to do some some time.

here some from pages and pages of nonsense when in hospital

Mirtazapine, venlafaxine, olanzapine,, zopiclone, lorazapam, diazapam, diclofenac plenty for me
eating alphabets, for breakfast dinner and tea. how do you eat yours!


Watchers in the windows tick the box of here, I have seen.
Wiped off evidence of life reformed,
a tick once more
watchers at night
the twitcher's of the curtain, shining lights for the breath of life

dark squares at night stand on the wall,
by day windows of light, glimpses of fresh air pass the gap,
whispers of wind seen in the trees, never felt nor heard.
Could be imagined but for the sway of boughs and swirls of spent leaves,
left to gather, decay for another year,
waiting for spring locked in the frost of winter,
spirals pulled under by worms regenerating life.
Leaves of summer locked to pre seasons growth,
Waiting, wondering, for change,

As dawn breaks fallen stars fade,
to die one by one until the sun breaks and takes the last of the dying glows.


 waterbaby 26 Jan 2011
In reply to jnymtch:

I see all your sedatives and relaxants didn't work. I'm surprised it was quiet enough for you to concentrate on writing anything, never mind something good like this
 psychomansam 26 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

I know the feeling. It comes in phases. I find reading good poetry that i like can inspire me - i steal their style for a while

Sometimes I find I can improve mine my playing with the format on the page a bit. Can't remember who, but one poet famously used layout a lot.

Wish i had more spare time to spend learning about writing poetry, it's great fun.

 waterbaby 26 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:
> (In reply to waterbaby)

>
> Wish i had more spare time to spend learning about writing poetry, it's great fun.

Haha, me too! It is fun and relaxing when I've got the inclination. I also find it very therapeutic.
 psychomansam 26 Jan 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

cathartic
 waterbaby 26 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

That's the word I needed!
 waterbaby 28 Jan 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

Do we have a theme?

I'm feeling I might like to write something over the next few days.

OP Sandrine 28 Jan 2011
Morning poets, just a rapid visit.

NT: the human need for affection.

 waterbaby 28 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

Sandrine!! Hello

Thanks for the theme.
 psychomansam 29 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

According to Maslow's hierarchy of Needs
The basics are:
sex, sleep, and breathing
food, water homoeostasis
and of course excretion

Then come the safety and security of your:
body, job, basic resources and property
and of your health, your family
and personal morality

Then, not to be greedy,
but then
we're allowed to want
friendship, family and
sexual intimacy.

How do I know Maslow was a man?
 waterbaby 30 Jan 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
> Morning poets, just a rapid visit.
>
> NT: the human need for affection.

The need for human affection
can you crave too much?
Does it make you a shallow person
when you don’t get enough?

Is it a smile from a stranger
or a hug from a friend?
Is it a kiss from your lover
or the touch of their skin?

I need human affection
I crave it Oh, so much
but…

Where does it start….
where does it stop?


 Alyson 04 Feb 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
>
> NT: the human need for affection.

Lately I've started to wonder if she's guessed,
if she accepts these hours I steal and all the words
which should be hers. When you get home
does she sense the traces of my tongue across your skin

and the smell of me, where it has no right to be?
She used to be so small inside my mind, and dowdy,
a woman who'd forgotten how. And I would give you
everything she didn't. And it made me a goddess.

I glowed with you inside me, felt immortal,
rearranged the planets and the distant stars.
I pitied her, and felt myself compassionate
even as I took your love, took your body.

But lately she's been growing, putting pressure
on the bones of my skull. Now she is huge,
a mighty matriarch who feeds me slivers of you
and laughs at my endless, burning hunger.
 waterbaby 04 Feb 2011
In reply to Alyson:

That's great Alyson.
 Alyson 04 Feb 2011
In reply to waterbaby: Aww thanks! If only life were remotely as interesting

I keep meaning to comment on some of the lovely stuff people have been posting - I'll have a good read of it all tonight.
 psychomansam 04 Feb 2011
In reply to Alyson:

Life uninteresting? Well with poetry that good, you can certainly attract men like me. Saying that, i'm not sure there are actually any men like me.

Beautiful. I wish I could write about an experience like that so intimately without being in it. Takes some serious empathy.

New topic: Deciding who you are
 AlisonSmiles 04 Feb 2011
In reply to Alyson:

Lovely and kind of evil!
 Alyson 04 Feb 2011
In reply to psychomansam: Thanks for the positive words. It's nice to get a reaction out of people, however unexpected!

Alison - I think the balancing act between good and evil is where we get conflict, grey areas. Those are the things I find most interesting to write about.
 Alyson 04 Feb 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

> New topic: Deciding who you are

Mostly A's, you are
determined, headstrong, caprine,
you thrive on competition.
You should take up taekwondo,
your power colour is red.

Mostly B's, you are
nurturing, steady, anserine,
you are a listener.
You should wear Anaís Anaís
your fruit type is pear.

Mostly C's, you are
creative, expressive, alaudine,
a free spirit!
Your god is Apam Napat
you're perfect with a Leo.

Mostly D's, well you
love rain down the back of the neck
and the smell of gorse.
You watch mayfly hatchings
and smile at strangers.
I have no advice for you.
 kamala 04 Feb 2011
In reply to Alyson:

Blimey Alyson, you're on a roll! Nice work, this and the last.

There's been plenty of other interesting stuff written here by you and others (waterbaby and the newer guys ) - I drop in for a quick read now and then but rarely have the energy to comment.

Good work on keeping the themes coming, psychomansam!

K
 psychomansam 04 Feb 2011
This is cheating, since I'm sitting trying to write and just remembered this from a few weeks ago. Will try to come up with something new!
-----------------------


Just because I'm me,
Doesn't mean I have any excuse,
To be someone other than you
 psychomansam 04 Feb 2011
I am the wind
I am the rain
I am the last man
Come again

I am the drought
I am the flood
I am the water
I am the blood

I am the future
Black and white
I am the past now
Throwing light

I am the broken
I am the small
I am the servant
Ruling all

I am beginning
Right at the end
I am breaking
what I'll mend

I am the turning
I am the fork
I am decision
Unending talk

I am becoming
What I've been
I am delivered
Unopened, unseen.
 Alyson 05 Feb 2011
In reply to kamala: Hi k! It's always nice to see you drop by, even if you're not leaving a little poetic gift like a bouquet of syllables or suchlike.
Yrmenlaf 06 Feb 2011
In reply to psychomansam:
> (In reply to Alyson)

Loads of good stuff: well done, Psychomansam and Alyson in particular

> New topic: Deciding who you are

We walk together, clench hands
As our path leads
Through the mirrored lands.

We see ourselves, each other
Waxing, waning
The curving glass distorting colour

(Here, a swollen, enraged head
or impotent arms
reflected green or red)

In this silence are stories told:
Truths spoken, lies mongered
A past reflected in glasslight cold

(Here, a broken shard
Of silvered glass
Turns the light diamond-hard)

And suddenly I see in this
Your unexpected beauty
Made new.
We kiss


Y.
 psychomansam 06 Feb 2011
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

That's beautiful
-----------------------------------------

The I am

I am the only candidate worth hiring
I am the only one you'll ever love
I am the ying to your yang
I am the best thing since bread and sharpened knives
I am the breaking dawn in your dark night
I am the heavenly Mana to your insatiable hunger
I am the water of life to your desert-cracked throat
I am the shelter from earth-shaking hurricanes
I am the blazing fire burning through your rain
I am the mile wide dam saving from the flood
I am the freezing ice covering your pain
I am the holy saviour of your dying soul
I am the best thing you've ever seen
and some days, none of these at all.
 psychomansam 06 Feb 2011
I think my subconscious may have just taken that off topic
 waterbaby 11 Feb 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

She felt the cold gentle touch
of drizzle on her face
then she knew who she was.
She was of the earth
She was water, through
and through.
 subalpine 13 Feb 2011
In reply to Sandrine: <hijack>
i'm not really into poetry, but i'm learning to like it with r4's 'poetry please' - just been moved by Silvia Plath's "Blackberrying" :



Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.

Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.

The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
In reply to Sandrine:

This is a short nonsense poem which I pretty much made up off the top of my head, but I liked it.

Hope you enjoy.

That Day When We Met

During that moment,
In that time before time,
When something was happening,
And everything was fine,

We met where we met,
As we stood where we stood,
And we did what we did,
So we finally understood,

That nothing was real,
But everything was true,
Though some things were false,
And that's how I met you.
 psychomansam 13 Feb 2011
In reply to subalpine:

I can't say every part of that works for me, but at some points, the picture it paints is so vivid and three dimensional, it's brilliant. A description of what we see, where similes clarify and exaggerate but so un-clumsily, so naturally.
----------------------------------------------------

Here's one I thought I should post on here:

I climb for the silence.
That silent moment.
I climb for the climb.
I climb with the hope,
the knowledge
Of never reaching the top.
I climb away from everything
and toward nothing -
Nothing for it's own glorious sake.
I climb for the sake
of movement,
of the ascent,
of freedom from the tyranny of stilldom.
I climb to be me.
I climb to be someone else, and
I climb to be nothing.
I climb for that silent,
acid pumped, pain drowned
moment
where it's all given, it's all over
and in that final
flailing,
failing,
falling
moment I know
I know
I've got it
 AlisonSmiles 14 Feb 2011
In reply to Looking for Lucky:

Really lovely. Simple and beautiful.
In reply to AlisonSmiles:

Cheers Alison.
 waterbaby 14 Feb 2011
In reply to subalpine:

I love narrative, descriptive poems. It's like reading a tale of a persons day. I also love blackberries
 waterbaby 14 Feb 2011
In reply to Looking for Lucky:

I like that
In reply to waterbaby:

Ah, cheers. It was actually done in response to someones facebook status which was along the lines of "Say how you met me... then repost". I never did repost it; how very naughty of me.
 waterbaby 16 Feb 2011
In reply to Looking for Lucky:

I remember that doing the rounds on FB, I never reposted it either
 psychomansam 19 Feb 2011
Can't have the poetry thread being neglected over the weekend
----------------------

Future-proofed:

This poem is
future-proofed
inoffensive and
lends itself to a sequel
May all be equal.


-----------------------


Can i suggest a genre instead of a topic? If so, ng: Light wit
 Alyson 21 Feb 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

But in the future all poetry is algorithmical
not lyrical
the reverse of verse
so your hopes are unfulfillable -
they won't understand a syllable.
 psychomansam 21 Feb 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

I like it
 John Lewis 21 Feb 2011
In reply to Alyson: very cool, i likes
StripleR 11 Mar 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

I remember the first time I saw you
tip toeing round the corner of the barn
like a lamb coming feet first
from your mothers womb
so as not to be strangled
the moment youre born.
Yrmenlaf 11 Mar 2011
In reply to psychomansam:
> Can't have the poetry thread being neglected over the weekend

Light wit

"How many" he said
"Does it take
To change it.
And make
The darkness light
The nighttime bright
And render dawn
redundant?"

Y.

 morbh 12 Mar 2011
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Torn screaming into the unwelcoming dawn
of tomorrow.

A life that should have brought great promise...

In the darkness light all we see
is the life that cannot be born.
 waterbaby 12 Mar 2011
In reply to psychomansam:

I’m croaking and coughing
the fact is
I feel shocking.

A baby elephant
has parked itself
on my chest, no less!

It refuses to budge
I’ve tried persuasion
someone give it a shove.

At some point I got in the ring
with Randy Couture, of all things
It’s not that I mind
just that I ache now I find!

 Alyson 08 Apr 2011
In reply to waterbaby: Hello poets! Friday night always used to be poetry night. Thought I'd give the thread a prod, it's like a slumbering bear.
 kamala 08 Apr 2011
In reply to Alyson:
It certainly deserves a prod, well done!
Do you know we're eight days into National Poetry Writing Month (don't ask me which nation) in which the challenge is to write a poem a day for the whole of April?



In reply to Alyson: Theme: Summer migrants (birds)
 Alyson 08 Apr 2011
In reply to kamala: I didn't know that. I have some catching up to do! I've been reading a lot of poetry but writing nothing lately.
 Alyson 08 Apr 2011
In reply to Fawksey: Thank you! Good theme <puts poetry hat on and flourishes pencil>
Daithi O Murchu 08 Apr 2011
In reply to Alyson:

my poem is titled - motherinlawstink

caroline the smell of your poop made my luke warm shower all the less fun thismorning after you had used all the water.

some mornings its just good to go to work and get out of the house

i think ill be doing a bit of overtime next week, probably until wednedsay.

its not that i hate you

id just wish you piss off

oh and P.s. Kevin is a tw*t
Wonko The Sane 08 Apr 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
I have few enough skills in life, but one is the ability to write the most horrible Pam Ayres type 'poetry' Here's the offering to my ex partner this year on her 39th. Her pet name was 'Beasty girl' Hence the 'beast bit'


Oh creature most beasty!

Well now you’re 39!!

To mark the day, I’ve summed you up

With a horrid little rhyme.

You grew up with a barbie mum and a father, quite amusing.

Their genes combined to make a beast,

Perplexing and confusing.

She’s cute, it’s true, she’s smart, she’s fun,

When it comes to world affairs she knows what’s going on…..

She has a very sexy bum (well since she’s started running)

She’s intelligent and cunning.

She used to have bright flame red hair

Now she’s blonde, quite becoming!

She’s friendly, caring, very loyal,

She’s there for all her friends.

She’s the only girl I’ll argue with

Then call to make amends.

She’s lovely, nice and does a lot for others without fuss.

But get her sat inside my car and all I do is cuss!!!!!!!

She offers comments on my driving (but doesn’t have a licence!)

She tells me off speeding, even when I feel I’m idling!

She questions my directions and tells me that I’m off track

She shouts at me, throws custard pies

Why? I’ve no idea!

But future boyfriends, take advice, DON’T DRIVE HER TO IKEA!!!!

This bossy little creature, will drive you up the wall.

She’ll give you grief and tell you off and worse

She won’t make sense. She’s got a woman’s logic.

From that there’s no defence.

For all that would I change her?

Not one little bit.

She’s a gorgeous, sexy little thing.

(And a RIGHT annoying GIT!!)



 Alyson 08 Apr 2011
In reply to Fawksey:
> (In reply to Alyson) Theme: Summer migrants (birds)

The first ones came before the wind turned south
battling across the Bay of Biscay in a fresh easterly,

frills of tired chiffchaffs falling into budded coppices
hungry for the early insects of a barely-there spring.

Then behind, a chattering twist of sand martins
breaches the sea walls, floods out over England

bringing waves of followers; and the promise of summer
pushes north on outstretched wings.
 kamala 09 Apr 2011
In reply to Alyson:
That's lovely, Alyson, especially the flood of sand martins. Makes me wish I could write better.

Tyroneslater - your ex sounds like quite a character!
 waterbaby 13 Apr 2011
In reply to Daithi O Murachu:

Your Mother in law has migrated to your house for the Summer?
 waterbaby 13 Apr 2011
In reply to Alyson:
> (In reply to waterbaby) Hello poets! Friday night always used to be poetry night. Thought I'd give the thread a prod, it's like a slumbering bear.

I think it needs ECT!

 waterbaby 13 Apr 2011
In reply to Tyroneslater:

Nothing wrong with a bit a Pam Ayres, well apart from her voice that is
 waterbaby 18 Apr 2011
In reply to Alyson:

Amidst a trio of Triumphs
the Barn Swallows swooped
high above the yard.
a tractor rumbled home
the clink of tea cups
the air alive with wasps
drawn to the homemade cakes and scones
to the sticky sweet jam
dripped carelessly onto tables
all but one, oblivious
to the aerial display taking place
above their heads.
 waterbaby 18 Apr 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

He was waiting for her to call
She for him
And so it went on
Neither breaking the silence
Until, it was all but gone.
 kamala 18 Apr 2011
In reply to waterbaby:
Hurray, it's poetry!
Love the swallows and the wasps (we've had the latter but not the former this year - don't know where they've gone ).
And the waiting - so true!
 waterbaby 18 Apr 2011
In reply to kamala:

Hello Thought I ought to try to dredge something forth, to see if I could get the juices flowing again!
 kamala 18 Apr 2011
In reply to waterbaby:
Good idea, seems to have worked!
I'm trying to write *something* every day this month (see my post about "Poetry Writing Month") but I'm not sticking my scribbles up here for public view - don't want to inflict such awful stuff on you. :-S

Time for much-needed sleep, goodnight!
 waterbaby 18 Apr 2011
In reply to kamala:
> (In reply to waterbaby)
> Good idea, seems to have worked!
> I'm trying to write *something* every day this month (see my post about "Poetry Writing Month") but I'm not sticking my scribbles up here for public view - don't want to inflict such awful stuff on you. :-S

Aw, that's a shame. I'm sure it wouldn't be awful. I regularly post awful stuff.....but then I'm a masocist
 Steve Parker 14 May 2011
In reply to Sandrine
>
> NT: solo concert

night on the moor
water underground
I can't see you
can't hear your heart
it is 00:15 by my radiant watch
you are out there somewhere
in a re-entrant
I am approaching
then I step on a grouse
that bellows out its position
as it takes off
and you are gone
your signal lost in the heather
the night, the loss

.
Yrmenlaf 15 May 2011
In reply to Sandrine:
> (In reply to Fawksey)
>
> It feels eerie these daffodils in the autumn. I liked it.
>
>
> NT: solo concert


Behold, a ghost here:
A transparent melody
Hidden in the weft
Can you hear it?

Behold, a ghost here:
Amongst the syncopated twill
Harmony
Can you hear it?

Behold, a ghost here:
Add these daubs of pathos:
Hear a story?
Can you see it?

Behold, A Composer Here.

Y.
 waterbaby 20 May 2011
In reply to Yrmenlaf:

Friday used to be poetry night. I miss it tonight and I'm rusting away.
 AlisonSmiles 03 Jun 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

I am sooo bored at work today ...



They came for the eggs

First Edwina Currie came for the eggs,
And I did not protest for I am a chicken.
Then the listeria infiltrated meat pate blunder,
And I did not protest for I was yet too young
To fully appreciate the joy of Melba Toast
Next CJD caused beef’s days to be numbered,
And I did not complain as the prices plummeted,
And it wasn’t only Sundays I enjoyed a roast.
But now they link coli with cucumbers
Causing complacent salad eaters to be scared,
And Spanish growers thoughts to turn to compost.
 waterbaby 18 Jun 2011
In reply to AlisonSmiles:


Of Life and Death

It was lovely walking down
the road after I’d seen you
with dusk descending and the
soft drip of recent rain, off the trees.
The birds were full of evening song
like a choir of the Earth
rejoicing at the end of
another thankful day.
All was peaceful and still
in the dying breaths of light
I slowed to catch them
 Alyson 12 Jul 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

> Of Life and Death

The light spills out from him. Slowly.
I watch its tiny grains trail across the lawn,
the grass fingering it like a gift.

That smile, those eyes. He burns with it.
At night his chest rises and falls in my ears
and I watch it drift towards the open window.

He's leaving me by degrees. Unaware.
But that's the price I know I pay
for daring to love such brightness.
 waterbaby 12 Jul 2011
In reply to Alyson:

Fab as always Alyson
 Alyson 12 Jul 2011
In reply to waterbaby: Thank you, and also for the inspiration! I don't seem to write poetry if I'm not writing it on here. That felt too stiff, like muscles I haven't used for ages. Got to get a poetry thread habit happening again!
 chris wyatt 12 Jul 2011
In reply to Sandrine: Yep.I'm up for that. Will chip in soon
 waterbaby 12 Jul 2011
In reply to Alyson:

I know what you mean. My mind is mostly asleep. I feed off other people and when the juices are flowing I can see words in everything around me. It's just not happening for me most of the time.
 waterbaby 12 Jul 2011
In reply to chris wyatt:

Long time no see
 Mark Edwards 13 Jul 2011
Those with a sensitive disposition should leave now. Go on, sod off, you whimps.

Those who chose to stay. You had better have the mind bleach handy.

Don’t say you weren’t warned.

OK, lets do this:
“Tap, Tap, Tappings (of the, on a microphone type) – Is this thing on?” – Right, we’ll begin

“we are about to make the jump into hyperspace for the journey to Barnard’s Star.
On arrival we will stay in dock for a seventy two hour refit, and no one is to leave the ship during that time all planet leave is cancelled. I repeat, all planet leave is cancelled.
I’ve just had an uphappy love affair, so don’t see why anyone else should have a good time. Message ends”
--------

I’ve missed playing on here.
You’ve probably not missed me though, eh?
Do I hope your all well? I got aspergers – go figure.
LOL - (Grin’s evilly)

As some of you know I have given up smoking (all sorts of things) and have passed through the choppy waters of anger into the calm, clear, deep ocean of pure rage.
One of the side effects is not being able to sleep and I thought things couldn’t get much worse than not sleeping (for more than minutes at a time) for almost two weeks. Then it passed. Now I’ve got to the nightmares stage, and as I have quite a deep pool to draw from, it aint much fun, so tonight (after waking at 2:30, with a start, the sweats and not knowing where or when I was) I was clearing out stuff off my hard drive and thought of you lovely “people”. If I get really upset I may even describe some of them to you, knowing full well that then you may never sleep properly again either. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, and all that. Who said I aint got no empathy?

Well, in an attempt to chase the nasties away I put some recent musing together. Didn’t publish them at the time for obvious reasons, Now – I don’t care. She may try and kill me for doing this and I am not exaggerating there. She could, and I ain’t no pushover. But wheres the fun in safe. Who the hell wants to live forever? Live every day as if it’s your last, cos one day you’ll be right. And you usually regret the things you didn’t do, rather than the things you did. Usually.

---------

My bitch keeps me talking till very late at night
She’s so fine and it feels so right

She’s put a spell on my heart
She must be a witch
My wonderful, desirable, funny, slim bitch

Meeting her was such fantastic luck
Patiently dreaming of our first f&(k
Waiting for her is not even a drag
Sure she will be an excellent shag

Am nervous as hell, its almost making me ill
The answer lies waiting in a little blue pill
A thing I probably shouldn’t dare mention
Warnings of an extended four hour erection.

---------

Hello darlin, I miss you too
Won’t be a pain, what’s a boy to do
Loosing your friendship would really be bad
It’s the only problem and its making me sad
Your count is currently 89 days
I will get around it, I have my ways
I need a plan or maybe a lure
I will have my way, the future secure
So here it is, my master plan
A complete and utter sexual ban
You think it a stupid thing to choose
But I will not bond and then so soon lose
Thanks for the info, it really was great
Really looking forward to our next date

---------

Its exquisite to see you all in the buff
I so want to f&)k you, so very rough

Your very slim body and cute little arse
are definitely two of the visible stars

And so many more desirable bits
I must not forget your heavenly tits

I know you wont mind if I am blunt
but I do so enjoy your wonderful c&=t

Your truly amazing my brilliant chick
I feel so honoured when you suck my d!(k

I want you excited all horny and hot
so I am trying to find your real g spot

Something that makes me oh so merry
is burying myself in your cute little Mary

I know when your happy I know its not fake
when your excited your legs start to shake.

---------

I wonder why you are so sad
when I 'keep on' you just get mad
cause you wont say, I feel bad

When do I want you? are you mad?
Away from you, just makes me sad

Stranded high upon a beach
higher than your love can reach

---------

Am sure we were friends once.
then we were lovers.
then things broke down,
under the covers.

I wanted to please you
its never been done.
I sure enjoyed trying,
but wasn't the one.

Distance between us
questions ignored
the excitement all gone
you acted so bored

The cards had told you
the future was hexed
was told it was over
by a four AM text.

Some lessons well learned
Love really does rule
even over this heart
and mind of a fool.

----

Well, that's about it for tonight.
There will be more.
Have recently fallen in love with a beautiful young girl who has some problems, and yes I know how wrong that sounds. But don't worry too much, as she is a bitch as well.

Ah well, better take the dog for a run, shower and get to work.
Just like real people do.
 chris wyatt 15 Jul 2011
In reply to Sandrine:

I wake shirt all soaked
through with sweat or wave spume.
Where's the sun? Hot and high!
Last night I lay my head here
on this surrounded rock
tried to deal with stars and stuff
too much mind, darkness, universal vastness
eventually slept and now returned refreshed
I am all soaked though
 waterbaby 18 Jul 2011
In reply to Mark Edwards:

We have poetry on here again!

I like the way you push the boundaries
 waterbaby 18 Jul 2011
In reply to chris wyatt:

tried to deal with stars and stuff
too much mind, darkness, universal vastness

Great! Looking at the night sky blows the mind.

It's been ages since you were here.
 Mark Edwards 18 Jul 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

Aww, thanks.

waterbaby, meet my friend airborne.

http://tinyurl.com/6aag654
 chris wyatt 24 Jul 2011
In reply to waterbaby: ¥es sorry. I've been working so hard there is little space in my head for anything else creative. I hope everyone on the thread is good
scattercat 15 Aug 2011
Dark Hair

I planned it all,
What I'd say to you,
Before the nightmare.
I'd call you a bastard
And then tell you,
I loved you still

Now you're a captive audience
And your hair is darker than before.
You lie there in perfection,
Groomed beyond reality,
Too ashen, too perfect.
Where are those flaws?
The one's I want to talk about.
Then I tell you that I love you.

If I turned my back a while,
Would you, could you move.
I won't watch, I have all the time.
Please just give me a sign.
I Kiss your forehead,
I feel it's right, it's awkward
And it's cold on my lips.
I whisper I love you.

Why are your hands crossed?
I stumble, I want to fall,
Run, scream, swear.
I want, but this isn't about me.
You have dark hair again!
I shall always remember.
Please know this though
I always loved you Dad.
scattercat 15 Aug 2011
And in a slight drunken stupor I
Thought of solomn duties by and by.
And the greatest of those thoughts
Was the one regarding sorts
Of funeral and passing

And in this state, innebriate,
Considered ways to seal my fate
And send my ashes dust to dust
To a place I love and trust.
Now onto things more pressing.
Lisa_K 16 Aug 2011
I don't write poetry but am relying upon it quite a lot at the moment, it's helping me with some very dark places that I'm having to walk through. Keep it coming those of you who do and can.
 John Lewis 16 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K: I tried writing whilst in a dark place Lisa, found it very cathartic. Why not give it a go. Everyone here is very supportive. May have to start writing again myself.

J
Lisa_K 16 Aug 2011
In reply to John Lewis:

Hmmm, maybe I'll try. In the last couple of months I've managed to go one 25hr period without breaking down in tears so I think I'll leave it a bit yet though. Else some poor bugger may just be finding me at the bottom of Garlands Pot.
 Alyson 16 Aug 2011
In reply to scattercat: Thank you for sharing. Both those poems are excellent.
Lisa_K 16 Aug 2011
you took my life and my heat
tipped them upside down as I did yours
you said that was what you wanted

you bought new things in to my life
we dreamed dreams
we made plans

then you changed
mr happy go lucky was gone
in his boots mr selfish

I did all I could
made the changes you said were needed
it wasn't enough

instead of telling me
you lied though
went elsewhere

you lied some more
"you start afresh, I'll join you soon"
a picture appeared; of you with her

you thought I knew
HOW?? you didn't tell me
how - could you and not tell me

now I stand
my dreams in tatters
surrounded by friends but so alone

I mean the world to you you say
you are my world
difference being that I mean it

you took my life and my heart
one is in pieces
the other worthless

-------------------------------

Apologies for such a raw outpouring but today has been a bit of a tough one.



Lisa_K 16 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K:

* heart not heat
 John Lewis 16 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K: Well done, if that's your first even more amazing. Hope it helped. Don't give up, keep trying stuff. As someone pointed out on here I knew when I found my style and was good enough to comment.

I'm tempted to post it for you.

Dusk descending
Gathering gloom
How much longer this night?
Now endured with voided heart

Someone noticed
Sagging shoulders, vacant stare
In came words, gentle care
Subtly dressed again where feeling bare

Just a smile
A request for aid
Simple message, willing embrace
Welcome back to the human race

J
 Boogs 16 Aug 2011
In reply to John Lewis:

I like that John simple poignant and strong if you don't mind me saying .

Lisas too , good to get that sheeeeeeed out in the ether sometimes I find , can make it easier to understand & unload it . . .

Well done 80)

leon
Lisa_K 16 Aug 2011
In reply to John Lewis:

I like that, it's a ways off for me yet, but it's good.

I didn't 'write' that, that's how it came out - no tweaks, very little thought involved.
 waterbaby 16 Aug 2011
In reply to scattercat:
> Dark Hair

>
> Why are your hands crossed?
> I stumble, I want to fall,
> Run, scream, swear.
> I want, but this isn't about me.
> You have dark hair again!
> I shall always remember.
> Please know this though
> I always loved you Dad.

This is very moving, thanks for sharing it.

 waterbaby 16 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K:

Lisa, that was good because it was off the cuff and from the heart, these are the best.

I agree with John, when your emotions are heightened for whatever reason, writing seems to be much easier and therapeutic. Keep it up
 John Lewis 17 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K: Waterbaby speaks sense, sometimes you just need to put down how you feel and let that do the talking, sometimes work a poem. Bit like climbing flash or worked problems.

Writing when more emotional always seems easier to me.

This one was worked and two extra verses that never seemed to come together got dumped when I realised less can be far more.

J

Lisa_K 17 Aug 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

that big red button is so alluring
you toy with it all the time

life is going so well
why flick the switch?

damn it, why not?
let us see what happens this time

the same as last time...
what did you expect?

your life implodes, taking out those around you
'I bounce' you say leaving the mess

not wanting to see the pain
your self-destruct habit has caused

 waterbaby 17 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K:

Based on what I was saying, I find this rather disturbing. I hope you are ok and I hope that writing this is like a salve, to heal.
Lisa_K 17 Aug 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

Just going through a bad break up; dropped a dress size in less than four weeks, smoking again (I quit in 2005), but I'm off the booze so the odds of me doing something stupid are exceedingly slim.

Oddly this is helping a little, still hurts like buggery but I can word it on here differently to when I'm with 'people' people - if that makes sense?
 waterbaby 20 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K:

Yes that makes sense. I find my deepest feelings can be put down on paper as poetry, much more easily, than talking to someone.
scattercat 22 Aug 2011
In reply

Water and Blood

Hold the water in your cupped hands
And wait a while! Sayeth the Lord.

So I did as I was bid but the water slowly bled
Through my fingers t'wards the floor.
And any I retained just melted over time,
Evaporated, turned to none, was lost to me, was gone

So I bade my lord. What does this mean?
Thinking of it, trial or test.
Nothing but for one thing son,
It's just that time moves on.

Don't waste your self on fruitless things,
Worthless tasks or fantasies.
As fleet the water ebbed away,
So will your life of finite play.

So Lord! I cried.Why did you make me
Hold the water so long,
If life is short, you could have just said.
And in reply... Just passing time
Lisa_K 23 Aug 2011
In reply to waterbaby:

I can't write (well type) at the moment. The clouds have lifted for now, with just the odd grey tendril crossing my sun. Not as I'm complaining, it hurts just to read my two efforts. I may well be back after the weekend though, I going somewhere I've only been with him, will be surrounded by people who only know me as his partner... Give it, ooooh, 10 mins before some poor bugger asks where he is!! lol
Lisa_K 28 Aug 2011
In reply to Lisa_K:

All I ask is for it stop
to go, to leave
I just want peace

I see reminders where there are none
where you've never been reminds me
for that reason

Your friends miss you
they don't understand
Neither do I quite honestly

A weekend that hurt like hell
I knew it would
It did not disappoint

But I managed
(y)our friends hugged me
said they wanted me even without you

I check my messages
more photos of you with her
just as I expected

what hurts is that you hate cameras
I have no photos of us
even after a year

yet only five weeks in
there are pictures galore
of you and your little whore

It is a bitter pill to take
but I do, the other option
being to not see you at all

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