Lol... thank you for your contribution... please drop in any timeForgive my chiming in.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
Lol... thank you for your contribution... please drop in any timeForgive my chiming in.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
You are welcome !
"I seemed to have sensed also from an early age that some of my experiences as a reader would change me more as a person than would many an event in the world where I sat and read. "
Gerald Murnane, Tamarisk Row
Quote Originally Posted by tailor STATELY View Post
Walter de la Mare's poem is quite enigmatic. I found a critique of "The Listeners" that opened more questions than resolved...
https://www.litbug.com/2021/08/14/th...-and-analysis/
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
He seems to me as a supernaturalistic poet. Some of his poems are considered to be written for children, but they do not sound to me like it. They are just full of symbilistic meanings, like
Someone
by Walter de la Mare
Someone came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking,
I'm sure — sure — sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But nought there was a-stirring
In the still, dark night;
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall,
Only from the forest
The screech owl's call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.
I, simply, adore his style. But, again... maybe I am childish... LOL
A poem of this genre is one of my favorites...
Antigonish - Hughes Mearns
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
Last edited by tailor STATELY; 01-03-2023 at 06:36 PM. Reason: syntax
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
tailor, "You are talking my language!"Originally Posted by tailor STATELY
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Great poem... I read it often
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
I also love this poem
"I seemed to have sensed also from an early age that some of my experiences as a reader would change me more as a person than would many an event in the world where I sat and read. "
Gerald Murnane, Tamarisk Row
Seaside Golf
How straight it flew, how long it flew,
It clear'd the rutty track
And soaring, disappeared from view
Beyond the bunker's back -
A glorious, sailing, bounding drive
That made me glad I was alive.
And down the fairway, far along
It glowed a lonely white;
I played an iron sure and strong
And clipp'd it out of sight,
And spite of grassy banks between
I knew I'd find it on the green.
And so I did.
It lay content
Two paces from the pin;
A steady putt and then it went
Oh, most surely in.
The very turf rejoiced to see
That quite unprecedented three.
Ah! Seaweed smells from sandy caves
And thyme and mist in whiffs,
In-coming tide, Atlantic waves
Slapping the sunny cliffs,
Lark song and sea sounds in the air
And splendour, splendour everywhere.
Written by John Betjeman
Ah, golf. I knew the game as a child as a caddy for my Father that took us on early morning jaunts here and there throughout Washington State and California. He was a fabulous golfer who shared the name of a professional player of the same era, as do I. I never took the game seriously, in fact never played a complete round until I purchased a home nestled near the 7th green of a golf course in of all places "just above Paradise", now a fire ravaged recovering community. Still, I know the highs and lows of the game and can appreciate Betjeman's poem. In my research I found Betjeman's poem coupled with another poem that more nearly reflects my short playing days, albeit not blessed with a seaside aspect... https://www.bridgeinthebox.co.uk/a-wretched-game/
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
Thanks, tailor. Nice memories. Try again.
I myself do not see much fun when I watch it on TV, except for spending nice time in nice nature with nice people
Brilliance of Rosetta Stone
Meaningless squiggles and wiggles
Noted for decades
Without collaborated meaning
Rosetta Stone discovered at last
The missing correlation
Brilliance of a Wise mind
Ancient abstract squiggles
Consolidated wiggles
Revealed under desert sand
Proof of ones or ones
Who cared and dared shared
Translation key to the world.
- Caren Krutsinger
(PS Is there an error to say: "Proof of ones or ones", instead: "Proof of one or ones"?)
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