and some like me, like oniony apples. for I like every one of the poems in this thread.
especially amuses.
and some like me, like oniony apples. for I like every one of the poems in this thread.
especially amuses.
"Don't matter who they are, anybody sets foot in this house, they are company and don't let me catch you remarking on their ways like you were so high and mighty."
Thanks for calling my mistakes "charming" *grin*
I think I'm sort of Riesanian, cause I like all the work done here as well
Can't you post some more "challenges" - would like to show my new and improved charm everywhere around *getting red* joke...
Oh yeah - it's all good; but if I had to be critical...! Why don't you post a challenge Joleena?
.............................................
Last edited by Bandini; 04-26-2006 at 04:51 PM. Reason: talking balls
Bandini: psuedy???
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
I like Joleena's question: is it real?
We should have a seperate thread just for that! It's not just is it real in the sense is that how so and so is like etc. but...reality???? Makes me think of a cross between Matrix and Baudelaire!
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
Pseudy - moi? Apologies 'pseudy' - ok it's not a real word - but you get my gist. Pretentious? No that's too strong. Apples and Onions matey, apples and onions!
Pretentious???
Sorry, I seem to have walked in on 'insult the person' above you thread...lol.
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
going back to Joleena's question about is it real:
'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.' Harold Pinter.
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
He might not have seen a distinction between real and not real, but I bet he managed to slip a long pause in between them.Originally Posted by optimisticnad
Okay, this will probably give you all an example of why I dont write more often.....
PARENTS
Argue, shout, scream
Invade every dream
Walked out on the mother
Made me hate my brother
Uncaring, Unfeeling
Belittling, Decieving
Misinterprate, misunderstand
Really is a better man
Always working, never there
But however, pretends to care
Questions, Questions every day
How I wish she'd go away
Not her fault
She just dont understand
Just respond the best I can
See I'm not that kind of man
Last edited by kilted exile; 04-26-2006 at 11:40 PM.
There once was a scotsman named Drew
Who put too much wine in his stew
He felt a bit drunk
And fell off his bunk
And landed smack into his shoe ~(C) Ms Niamh Anne King
I think we should re-name this 'The Phillip Larkin Memorial Thread'!
Well...I'm 37. They say you never stop dealing with this stuff.
I take your point about the predictability and I liked your piece, but I can't resist titting your tat: dad as dictator? Not a hard one to predict either.
If only for the sake of being a little less predictable, I guess I might as well throw my dad poem from the Sanskrit poet's game thread into the mix:
This argument can be described
as a Japanese town
one in which the simple geometries
of the old wood houses
open to the outside with
nary a discernible division
but in their fragility
and inherent insubstantiality
that is conceptual
a refusal of simple opposition
they are being opposed
and losing
to the flat impersonality
of history without progress
Glazed grey bricks and
concrete obliterating
rather than communicating
with a dead language.
Dad, you don't play fair.
Your language does kill
Demolishing ambiguity
Demolishing the past
Demolishing language
So that you seem to be
Leading Sanskrit's dialectic Ama-gi
Or maybe the Larkin and Plath Memorial Thread
ok, mine iws fairly predictable too. I should have made the mother the dictator or something like that. but thanks.
and yes Xam, long long pauses indeed. [pause]. lol.
We can never know what to want, because living only one life we can neither compare it with our previous lives, nor perfect it in our lives to come'
Milan Kundera,The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Parce que c'est toi, parce que c'est moi
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