Poet's Corner

Discussion in 'Writing' started by sky dancer, Nov 15, 2008.

  1. SeaGal
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    SeaGal Gold Member

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    I am not a poet.

    Though every now and then a faceless one appears without invitation.
    Demanding, controlling, selfishly screaming words insistent on dictation.

    Impossible to ignore, whirling round and round.
    I do not create the words, merely write them down.

    I am a scribe.

    SeaGal 11/14/16
     
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  2. Capstone
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    Capstone Gold Member

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    To the Predators

    In lucid dreams of massive wings,
    serrated beak in dripping prey,
    who screams at last the oddest things
    before its life force bleeds away:

    "Devour my flesh to your disgrace,

    but grant my dying wish at least,
    and save for last my eyes and face,
    that I may watch you as you feast

    on ignorance that what you eat
    is not my body but your own.
    So savor that delicious meat
    and pick clean each and every bone.

    This final thought is my bequest:
    fly safely home when you are done,
    and from the comfort of your nest,

    digest the fact that we are One."
     
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  3. SeaGal
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    SeaGal Gold Member

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    :clap:
     
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  4. SeaGal
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    SeaGal Gold Member

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    Some years ago, a friend and I were discussing the finer points of cane syrup. The making of cane syrup is still a fall activity in parts of the south, much as it has been for generations. Little has changed in the cooking procedure. I prefer the lighter syrup...and he prefers the heavy bodied dark. As in making a dark roux - the darker syrup requires taking it almost, but not quite, to the stage of being burnt.

    The whimsical, fleeting, unsophisticated kiss on the palate of the light - or the heavy, powerful, lingering taste of the dark - can apply to poetry as well as cane syrup, and life too, I suppose. Anyway, our discussion on the finer points of cane syrup...some years ago...inspired these few lines.

    (Untitled)

    You choose the dark...
    I'll take the light.

    One seeks the sun...
    the other the night.

    To inner voices we hark...
    As we ponder man's plight.

    When our journey is done...
    Could both...be right?

    SeaGal 2008
     
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  5. Bleipriester
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    Bleipriester Freedom!

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    The User

    For quite a time he might appear
    to be a stock of vast, wide lore
    but once you´ve read his slime and smear
    you ask yourself what you´re here for.

    Time passes by and, nothing learned,
    he still talks big and insolent
    Harasses you and yet has turned
    in useless waste the time you´ve spent.

    You move along, another board
    in hope for having better times
    just to meet an equal sort
    of users that yap even in rimes.
     
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  6. Capstone
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    Capstone Gold Member

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    Opposing Forces?

    Two hands, one left the other right,
    oppose but for the common goal
    to bring together dark and light
    components in the mixing bowl—

    a sight one stirs above the dried
    and moisten'd hidden down below;
    a scent one wishes to abide
    and therefore seasons to bestow...

    a taste of what could only be
    a combination to fulfill
    the dictates of that Recipe
    we read as our Creator's Will:

    opposing forces that create
    to break the silence (each its own),
    those Two persist to satiate
    the hunger One feels all alone.
     
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  7. SeaGal
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    SeaGal Gold Member

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    :clap:
    You sir are truly a poet, while I remain merely a scribe - albeit a joyful one.

    Anyway - once joined an mail order weight loss program that had an online support forum - designed for members to have a place to give and receive encouragement, to share success stories and setbacks. Overall atmosphere was one of positive reinforcement on a sometimes difficult journey. One of the topics was a challenge to pen a few inspirational words about your 'weight-loss' experience as a way to encourage others. Some expressed the desire but didn't quite know how to begin - advice was given to just 'write what you know'...so I did...with Good Humor (or so was my intention).

    'Write what you know says PamSB.
    So what do I know, says I to me?
    They say that we must reach for the stars,
    but all I see there...are candy bars.

    There is one named for Mars
    the Chunky god of war.
    An' the creamy Milky Way
    leaves me yearning for S'More.

    Meanwhile, eyes drifting downward to earth
    where happily, gladly there is no dearth...

    Of chocolatey goodness
    and peanutty delight.
    I'd spend my whole Payday
    for two Twix's tonite.

    Even in sleep, tucked snugly in bed
    Peppermint Patty plays in my head...

    Dreaming of battles fought
    by Three brave Musketeers
    raising up sword and shield
    to help conquer my fears.

    I try to flee but there's nowhere to go.
    Rivers of Hershey's are starting to flow.

    A bridge made of Snickers
    O'er Butterfinger lane,
    heapin' Mounds of Almond Joy
    are driving me insane.

    They say that we must reach for the stars
    but all I see there...are candy bars.'

    SeaGal 2012

    ps - they kicked me out. :dunno:
     
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  8. midcan5
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    midcan5 liberal / progressive

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    Wow, this will be Post # 522 in this thread. I may have posted a poem by Wislawa Szymborska already, but this is a fascinating poem and poetry project.



    "Draw a crazy picture, Write a nutty poem, Sing a mumble-gumble song, Whistle through your comb. Do a loony-goony dance' Cross the kitchen floor, Put something silly in the world, That ain't been there before." Shel Silverstein
     
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  9. theliq
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    theliq Platinum Member

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    For Rebecca (Becky) Born 29.12.1981....murdered 15.07.17

    "Thy Tiny Footsteps on the sands,

    Of a remote and lonely shore,

    The twinkling of thine infant hands,

    The wind swept golden hair you wore,

    The mingled look of love and glee,

    When we returned to gaze on thee."


    In Memory of our Beautiful Daughter,We Loved you then, We love you still Darling.Papa
    ,
     
  10. midcan5
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    midcan5 liberal / progressive

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    Opinion | Memorize That Poem!

    "To be, or not to be--that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
    And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep--
    No more--and by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep--
    To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause. There's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life.
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
    The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office, and the spurns
    That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,
    The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
    No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprise of great pitch and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,
    The fair Ophelia! -- Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remembered."

    Hamlet
     
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