Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner From: Amos Date: 18 Apr 12 - 06:33 PM The Important Thing |
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... |
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: 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 - 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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 - 05:00 PM
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner From: Amos Date: 25 Jan 12 - 05:55 PM Games and StarsOn 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. |
Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner From: katlaughing Date: 19 Dec 11 - 09:04 PM Good!:-) |
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: 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: 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 |
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... 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 - 12:44 PM 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 |
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: 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: Amos Date: 08 Nov 11 - 05:39 PM Bodies in CorrosionThe 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 16 Jul 11 - 12:56 PM
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 |
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: 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: Lonesome EJ Date: 06 Jun 11 - 01:35 AM great stuff a |
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: 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 - 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: Amos Date: 05 Jun 11 - 01:58 PM
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Subject: RE: Mudcat Poetry Corner From: Amos Date: 27 May 11 - 11:49 AM 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: 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: 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: katlaughing Date: 10 May 11 - 10:21 AM Not sure when I wrote this, but it does not apply nowadays:-) the sky is black and the stars don't shine And your partner is out of sight. |
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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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: 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. |
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