Mudcat Poetry Corner

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: kendall
Date: 19 Nov 10 - 07:29 PM

Old Love

Three years we lived as one,
I, the Master, she the Mistress,
She did my bidding, answered my call-
Enveloped me through the long nights,
Gave my days purpose.

A being apart, yet part of my being.
I met her as a boy, left her as a man.

Time passed, calendars turn,
Ten years, twenty, twenty five,
We met once more,
She is bedraggled, unkempt, uncared for,
A bag lady, the smell of age about her.
I remain in her presence silently for a minute,
Then, as I turn to leave, I know,
She doesn't remember me.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 19 Nov 10 - 07:36 PM

Here's a ballade I constructed for a thread below the line about this week's royal wedding announcement (with a couple of minor changes):

The Times were hard, the portents all were grave
Little to hope for, everything to fear,
Then from his door rushed out a smiling Dave,
'A Royal Wedding will take place next year
Rejoice good people - brush aside a tear -
Forget your troubles on this happy day.'
One thing at least, we were not born to wear
These chains of gold, as wealthiest of slaves.

Once more proceeds the pantomime we crave,
The transformation scene we all can share,
All play a part, ours is to cheer and wave.
The curtain rises, see the happy pair.
Charming Prince Will and Katherine the fair,
For our delight, as always is the way,
Don once again, while thousands stand and cheer,
The chains of gold, as wealthiest of slaves.

It seems to me the lady must be brave.
The precedent indeed is passing drear:
A fairy tale where fortune could not save
An ending that was messy and unclear.
But turn your mind from that unhappy shade
A crown awaits, and hanging for you there,
The chains of gold, as wealthiest of slaves.

Prince, and Princess-to-be, your fate is clear,
A life laid out from cradle to the grave.
Do what you will, you cannot choose but bear
Your chains of gold, the wealthiest of slaves.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: kendall
Date: 20 Nov 10 - 07:25 AM

For some reason the last line in Old Love didn't print.
It should end with:
What ship remembers her old Skipper?

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: GUEST,Poo
Date: 20 Nov 10 - 08:19 AM

i needed a poo
but gambled on wee
a bonus brown
fell passed my knee
i broke my nose
swooping to catch it
on the lip of the bog
just beside the faucet
a deep red streak
ran down the drain
and upon the floor
an unfortunate stain.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 20 Nov 10 - 12:44 PM

That's beautiful, Captain Morse.

And poo, what can be said about your little nugget? Truly, it belongs in the crapper.;>)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 19 Dec 10 - 06:52 PM

My son just sent me a neat link to recordings of readings of RUMI. Thought some of you might enjoy them.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amergin
Date: 21 Dec 10 - 11:07 PM

For Joan

It was with a tear strained phone call,
Screeching it's insistant banshee song
The kind you answer, knowing, feeling
The worrisome trepidation of farewell,
That I was told your spirit had gone,
Though I felt you depart the night before
In a moment of sudden vacant despondency
In sharp contrast to the joy and laughter
I experienced in the company of those I love
Just a bare few minutes previously
As your phantom deserted the frailty
The sickness of your corporeal body
For one free of sorrow and agony
Joining a presence greater than ours.
Then, we accompanied the weeping choir
Singing wails of our loss, dear and empty
As the memories of the cursory hours,
Each one a grain of sand, trickling
Through the desperate grasping fingers,
As if they were faded photographs
Flipping through a dust stained album
Such as that time you.....
Or that time when we....
The recollections of hearing the song,
The music of your impassioned soul.
The air hummed from your essence
Has ebbed to an indistinct murmur
Attenuated by the sounds of the wind
Bearing you away. It is that strain
Your tune, that will be missed until
The day comes when we harmonise
Together once more, raising our voices
Chanting the Dreaming to the shadowed sky.

nt

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 12 Mar 11 - 12:26 AM

Sing backwards;double clutch and reverse.
Reversing the words to songs
Verse on verse
Opens one hundred gates
Into ten hundred worlds.
Music follows.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 12 Mar 11 - 02:19 AM

In fresh and tranquil valley, as I lay beside the meandering stream,
My eyelids gently met and there I slipped into a dream.
I dreamt of better days, of days of sunshine, sea and sand,
Of trees, of bushes, flowers and hues that beautify the land.
Long glasses full of lemonade or vanilla ice cream and fruit,
Aunties apple dumplings, with custard, chewy arrowroot.
Picking those wild strawberries and some crunchy hazelnuts,
Catching hands on blackberry thorns and getting several cuts.
Climbing trees, oft falling out, not breaking any bones,
Trying to skim the water with those nicely flattened stones.
Hearing mummy shouting "Come on kids it's time for tea"
Mouths began to salivate wondering what it would be.
Sadly the dream ends abruptly as a bird begins to sing,
I lie in the sun contemplating what the rest of the day will bring.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 10 May 11 - 10:21 AM

Not sure when I wrote this, but it does not apply nowadays:-)

It's a hell of thing to sit on the edge of the bed at night
the sky is black and the stars don't shine
And your partner is out of sight.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amergin
Date: 15 May 11 - 03:42 AM

I posted this before not too long ago...but I'll go ahead and put it here, where it is suppose to be:

A Kiss of Farewell

It was all completely stated with a brief kiss,
Warm moist lips upon cold, pale flesh,
The tangy stench of death's corruption
Infiltrating the atmosphere, embracing the husk
You departed but a short time before.

It was a kiss, infused with the memories
Cursory flashes of moments, miniature one act plays
Continually presenting you by my side,
Trading anecdotes, mirth, and lamentations.

It was a kiss, that said all I could bring myself to say,
And all that genuinely demanded to be divulged,
As it spoke of love, and the selfish reasoning
Entreating you to remain, to abandon your path,
To the arms of those who went before,
Just to grace us with more fleeting seconds
Of your comforting physical presence.

But it was a brief kiss that stated it best,
Moist warm lips greeting cold cadaver,
Vacant of the specter it once sheltered,
Whispering words of parting endearment:
Slán abhaille, safe journey home.

nt

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: The other Hank
Date: 15 May 11 - 08:23 PM

SONNET NUMBER THREE
The Singer

The singer begins with starting breath,
The birth an abstract silhouette.
Both beginnings in perfect balance,
A butterfly with fake falcon talons                
          Help buttress up a mis-placed peace.
New lessons learned upon release,
Soft beauty granted floating by,
Still germane indeed if it catch the eye
And open up a whole new world.

The song sits aware, no time remaining.
Cold console flickers once the switch is thrown.
Pressure building without constant draining,
Explosions valid from the force alone.

Explosions need be sweet to contradict
Pale pithy pathos we self-inflict.
For no heated malice can endure for long,
Betwixt the singer, and the singer's song.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 27 May 11 - 11:49 AM

Suck Up

Suck up, because your soul is lying.
Cower, cow, flinch and puddle there
At the edge of your black-out curtain.
It would be nice to know
You are bullet-proof, immortal
Having nothing and being all,
Unable to lose.
This conviction, although true,
Is untenable on common ground.
So take it in
Suck up, because
Your soul is lying.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 05 Jun 11 - 01:58 PM

Old Suburban Man

I have not fought, I have not died.
My fists are unscarred, and none
Have moved my throne before the tide,
Or seen my wings strive for the sun.
Now, the temples are gone gray
And you and I need hardly speak
To know what we have left to say.
The long muscles ruled, but now are weak.
The ticking creaks, and even down is hard.
The place is ordered, but does not often speak;
Little of the world exceeds the bed and yard.
And on reflection, there is too much left to give.
But I have not fought, or died, and only may have lived.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 05 Jun 11 - 07:44 PM

We are the riders on the horizon,
where the dawn curves down
We are pursuing the far horizon again,
disappearing from your sight.
Our dust and faint outlines fade from your sight
As you stand, starting another dreary day and
Wishing you could disappear with us
Riders across a different horizon.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 05 Jun 11 - 08:29 PM

I hope those are not reflections of how you are feeling, Amos? You are too young for all that, eh?

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 05 Jun 11 - 10:55 PM

No, dearie, not me. But I have to at least let the dark side have a voice in order to expose it.


A

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 06 Jun 11 - 01:35 AM

great stuff a

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: CapriUni
Date: 03 Jul 11 - 02:35 AM

Between the crevices of daily tasks
My thoughts slip, far too easily, away
As silver fish that dart 'tween blades of grass
From sunlit streams to rivers deep in caves.
They gather there, to ask Aunt Jenny Wren
About the Suffragettes. And Pete? That book.
In patient tones, they carefully explain
To Shakespeare how a modern camera works.
And with my thoughts, the minutes slip away,
I do not finish all the things I ought,
And suddenly, I've reached the End of Day,
Returning home from being lost in thought.
It's quite a realization-- once again:
Surrounded by Imaginary Friends.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 03 Jul 11 - 03:36 AM

Poetry page on facebook which I started some time ago.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 16 Jul 11 - 12:56 PM

Grass Planned

When you go where the grass is planned you do not wonder my love.
Trees too, by design. A specialist did it, thinking
Of lessons inherited.

A different sort of mind complied
And drove the blade hunger,
The leaf demand.

The roots figured it out
Without lesson
Inheriting instead, fire

A.H. Jessup
San Diego
7/16/2011

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 16 Jul 11 - 01:13 PM

Why Poets are Sung


I am of the mind that a good poem
Is an exploding escape
That says, at least on occasion,
The tight bars may stretch, even melt, and
The prisoners dance free just
For a while.

The sheriff refuses
To discuss things
Beyond his jurisdiction.
Still, on occasion,
His prisoners dance,
Keeping their names secret from him.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 09 Aug 11 - 04:27 PM

The soul is a temptress and loves to look at beautiful forms
and the eye is the guide of the heart.
The heart commissions its guide to go and look to see what is there
and when the eye informs it of a beautiful image it shudders out of love and desire for it.

Frequently such inter-relations tire and wear down both the heart and the eye as is said:
When you sent your eye as a guide for your heart one day,
the object of sight fatigued you
For you saw one over whom you had no power
Neither a portion or in totality,
instead you had to be patient

~ Imam Ibn ul Qayyim al Jawziyyah

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 09 Aug 11 - 06:10 PM

For Morgan and Luna

In the Idylls of the Summer
Was a boy and trusty dog.
They wiled away the hours
In the backyard on a log.

The red of hair of one
Matched the other's shaggy coat
Their love was true, complete,
This poem their "Mama's" note!

kat lafrance

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 10 Aug 11 - 12:42 AM

Good stuff, Amos. Dancing prisoners, hey?:>)

and Katlaughing...what can I say but

awwwwwww...!:>)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 10 Aug 11 - 09:40 AM

Fire.
Fire.
Fire.

Waking up surrounded by it
Clears the mind and makes the problem simple.

First, to get out.
Then to get the fire out.
Then, some sleep.

Then to awake
Surrounded by fire.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 08 Nov 11 - 05:39 PM

Bodies in Corrosion

The body's corrosion and the reef's building
Are death drawn in gravity.
Neither the stars nor the living heart
Erase the lines of new dying, or old.
Under the currents, the new heart, thrilling
To explosion and considerate suavity
Finds every meeting a reason to depart.
Even the tides are cold,
Against the soul's explosion.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Joe_F
Date: 15 Nov 11 - 08:04 PM

Now, in praise and hope of thee,
I lift this cup from thy dark sea,
and if I spew thy salt on light,
I trust thy mercy and thy might
To make a fitting guest of me.

(1960s)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: GUEST,Will Power
Date: 16 Nov 11 - 03:00 PM

Fishing
It isn't catching
It's fishing
Doubt
Uncertainty
Hope
Promise
Suspending negativity
Willing suspension of disbelief
The Uncertainty Principal
A hook and the fish's mouth
Seldom occupy the same space and time
Zen of fish
Zen of no fish

You fish better when you're hungry
Hoping for the Big One is foolish
I remember Ireland Lake
Little tarns full of golden-cutthroat hybrids
You could catch them on a piece of tin foil and a treble hook
About the size of a large sardine but tasted
Pretty damned good
Cooking them in foil saves weight

Caught a brookie on my first cast at Shadow Lake
Caught a sixteen-incher at Lake Aloha
Had to cut him in pieces to fry him up
Swear by those yellow rooster-tails




Hiked alone into the Yolla Bolly Wilderness
Pitched my tent in a meadow
At the base of a cliff
A small plane flew over
And bombed the tent with tiny trout
The pilot was having a bad day
I filled my pot with tiny fish and threw them in the water
That evening I
Had to move my tent because of the yellow jackets
Feasting on the fish
Fish out of water
Don't live too long
A kind hiker gave me several panther martins
Using a spinning reel on a fly rod
I could cast the length of the lake
75 by 70 yards
No wonder the pilot missed
What I took out about equaled what I put in

Trolling is easy
But productive
Get the right speed
Get the right depth
Use the right lure
Rubber snubber on lead core line
Four of five colors
Knock em dead
Trout and kokonee
Catch those stupid hatchery trout
Trolling in the rain at Huntington Lake
I caught pneumonia
Fishing in the rain
Do fish catch pneumonia when it rains?






Salmon fishing is cold
Used three-pound iron drop-off weights
With spring-loaded sliding retainers
Catch a shaker
Lose the weight
Fingers freezing when you put a new weight oj
Standing outside in a freezing drizzle
In a new down jacket
That would smell forever of fish

The first time I hooked a yellowfin
My knot broke
My heart broke too
Chalk it up to experience
The next one held
Tied a good Palomar knot
The deckhand snagged it with a gaff
And dropped it!
"Free-spool!" he yelled
"It's in Free-spool"
I guess he liked the drama
Or wanted a bigger tip

I hooked a big dorado
He jumped I swear fifteen feet
And grinned as he threw the hook

Fishing for tuna
I snagged something like a Volkswagen
Broke my 40 pound test like a spider-web
"What was that!"
"Probably a big-eye!" said the deckhand
Deckhands know everything
Just ask them
They'll tell you



I don't kill Golden Trout anymore
They are way too beautiful
In Pebble Creak you could catch a cutthroat
Nearly every cast
Stupid Yellowstone fish
Got broken off on eight-pound test
That got my attention

Trolling in Edison Lake at sundown
Something as big as my leg hit the floating rapalla
The rod bent like a bow
And the lure flew by my face
Just missed catching me
Brown trout's revenge
If fish could laugh
He was smiling

If you catch them
You clean them
The Tao of fishing
Birth Death Redemption Faith Hope Resignation
Sunsets rainbows fog forest-fires deer sweat
Frogs snakes big beaver swimming by your leg unafraid
Butter melting in the pan no salt
Cold Beer in the rocks
Tie it down good
The worst day fishing beats the best day working
Piscatorial karma
Transubstantiation
Wishes into Fishes
I will make you a fisher of men

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 18 Dec 11 - 12:44 PM

A time - crazed life;
Just add water, boil,
And a wireless link to
Everyone, everywhere,
For instant, mad existing.

Somewhere the center
Breathes slowly
Over lost thoughts like
Water over forgotten stones.
Nothing is more persistent.

San Diego
December, 2011

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Raedwulf
Date: 18 Dec 11 - 02:50 PM

Coo! Is this still going? Here's a couple of things I wrote almost exactly 12 months ago, then...

Warm Inside

The fire's hearth is filthy; the window boards are missing;
The bookshelves are not ready; some skirting boards not kissing
The walls quite as they should be. The chimney breast, its plaster,
Another coat of paint? Would not be a disaster.

Around the door there's plaster and paint that shouldn't be there.
Not there? A door that should be! The painted walls still quite bare.
Don't ask about the dining room (unless you'll give assistance)
The kitchen, a saga all its own, whose ending's in the distance!

And yet...

The house remains unfinished, the front room still half-furnished,
But here I sit on sofa new; of solid oak, well burnished.
A glass of wine (now beer), a pad, a pencil - I'm a poet!
(I'm no such bloody thing at all, I'm a wordsmith and I know it!)

But here I sit, scribbling doggerel verse, forging words to fit the space
Whilst gazing into the fire's coals, seized by the Muse's grace
It's hardly Wordsworth, Keats, I know! You all think I'm demented.
But it's cold outside & warm in here & I feel quite... contented.

Jack Frost
A tapestry in ice, unmeant.
(I don't know where the spider hid)
Greeted me yesterday morning
(There's eggs under a certain lid)

Slender, frosted, spiky, soft
(Surely all four can't be done?)
Graced my window as day was dawning
(Cold and misty, without sun)

Yesterday was minus six!
(But windless, therefore not so cold)
Today, plus two. Oh! Plus two more!
(Golfers weather, if I may be so bold!)

So Jack Frost's drapery was melting
(A constant symphony of drip)
A world of white, brief turned to colour
(But Jack has not yet lost his grip)

This night is the longest, Solstice,
(And Jack, for now, he still holds sway)
Tomorrow's day, though, will grow longer
(Spring! And summer! On their way!)

So though the world may yet stay cold
(Those eggs are in the compost bin)
The world still keeps turning, turning
(Next year - frosted webs again!)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 18 Dec 11 - 09:37 PM

How would you manufacture such a sea
Of pictured hurt
With rich doubts like deep whales
Singing confusion?

Born of storms too great,
Such pictures-- brineshrimp recollections, and
Speculative tides, tide-rips of worry ebbing
And sins flowing back.

Along the shore the iodine-weed nods
And the sands and sea collide.
To build such
Is the stuff of recalled nightmares
When morning grows too hard to deny.

San Diego
December, 2011

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 18 Dec 11 - 10:22 PM

Amos, I hope your recent poems are not a reflection of personal depression. Well-written, just rather grim.:-)

Raedwolf, I love them both, but esp. the second. Perfect for this week.

Will Power, I had uncles who would have applauded your fishing poem. Well-done!

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 19 Dec 11 - 08:57 PM

Thanks, Kat. No, I don't think so. I feel rather cheerful, actually.

A

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 19 Dec 11 - 09:04 PM

Good!:-)

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 25 Jan 12 - 05:55 PM

Games and Stars

On the man-fat pitch and the iron-green grid
There are no gains. Conditions,
After all, are not painted on,
Lime on grass in clean stripes of boxed fury.
Tongues rattle ceaselessly
Firing sounds at tiring minds
With every turn of the sun
And the moon
And each of a trillion, trillion stars.

San Diego, January 2012

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 05:00 PM

Two Shabby Poems

The marauder's skies are colored
Much like your own; only
Hard as shells, slow to admit weather,
And bullet-proof, coated in sins.

#    #    #

The equations of sanity require symbols
To hold in rivers and flame.
The fires do not care how they were lit
Nor whether their burning makes
Sense to hearts.

In perfect places, the fires are damped down
For enduring, more kindly warmth.
But such are useless mathematics
Where the equations of living sanity
Are missing.

San Diego
February 2012

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 06:38 PM

The Cargo Cult

Here where the pilgrims walked on knees
up the grooved stone ramp to where
the Oracle held court, unknotting
the twisted threads of the Three Fates
Here let us prop up our plastic tablets
and invoke the Sacred Prophets of the Market
Here where the ancient ones carved Hymns
to Apollo who slew the serpent of the gods of chaos
Let us clamp on headphones and see
if we can dial them up again
Here where the initiates courted Life and Death in masks
and were cleansed by blood offering
Let us commune with our devices and seek council concerning
a good Taverna with exceptional dolmades
They, who built such structures as these
who carved these columns and wrought these marble gods
receiving grace and favor from them
Are we not the same as they? Are we not due as much?
So set up here a cardboard altar
extrude an oracle of polystyrene
and let's get these blessings bestowed
while there's still time for Lunch

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 08:34 PM

LOL, LEJ. Visitor to Delphi, I assume? I know the feeling.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 10:05 PM

Barcelona

Now we must part,
my sweet Ilona:
I must leave
for Barcelona,

and I must travel
there alone,
and every day
in Barcelon

I'll bear a heart
that's like a parcel
of sorrow that
you're not in Barcel;

yet though we stay
apart so far,
you'll still be with me
there in Bar,

for with love's constant
eye I'll see
your image every
day in B.


Jon Corelis
Laugh if you will: Comic and Light verse

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: GUEST,Bill D
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 10:18 PM

Herons
Sunset
Withered aster
Premonitions of disaster.
Dark clouds racing-
Silent moon-
Trying not to rise too soon.
Last geese flying
Leafless tree-
Again, November has to be.



written August, 1957- 18 years old

just found it in an old notebook- I gave up poetry soon thereafter

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: katlaughing
Date: 28 Feb 12 - 11:03 PM

That's beautiful, BillD. I think you shouldn't have given it up!

Thanks for the new ones, Jon, Amos, and LeeJ. I enjoyed them.

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 29 Feb 12 - 12:33 AM

Jon, I think you left a verse out

Though I languish lonely at the spa
I'll see your face in the steam at Ba

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 29 Feb 12 - 09:24 AM

Maybe it would have been more challenging to do one letter at a time ...

Jon Corelis

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 13 Mar 12 - 10:11 AM

Children with guns


In the church they worship spiders, on T.V.
Christ with a neat goatee foretells the rain.
Men drunk on anger oil their blood machines,
women ingest the pennies of their dreams,
and children with guns
dance howling on the entrails of their brothers.

At the Union Hall they're slurping poison soup.
The flesh rots from their faces. "Who are you?"
they ask each others' mirrors.
Men scream at machines in isolation,
women can't catch their breath, and children with guns
take aim at the morning.


Jon Corelis
Death of a Nation: political poems

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 23 Mar 12 - 12:16 PM

Elegy for the Sixties

Hope?
Nope.
Dope.



Jon Corelis
Need I say more? Epigrams

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 23 Mar 12 - 12:19 PM

This page is getting so long it's becoming cumbersome. Maybe the pre-2012 postings could be put in an archive thread?

Jon Corelis

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Amos
Date: 23 Mar 12 - 05:51 PM

Jon:

Have you read the MOAB thread?

You can open the thread from latest to earliest by clicking on the blue "d", or open it in segments/pages by clicking on the blue asterisk *.


A

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Jon Corelis
Date: 23 Mar 12 - 06:21 PM

Thanks, I always wondered what those things meant.

Jon Corelis

Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner
From: Ebbie
Date: 25 Mar 12 - 11:00 PM

Wow. I've spent the last couple of hours reading this thread- and will have to go back more than midway in order to linger.

I don't write poetry but KT today told me of this and I urged her to post something she wrote this week. KT, the ball is in your court...