Originally Posted by ampoule
For this, Oh Lord, I am heartily sorry,
that when you permitted the lambs
to be led into the gas chambers,
I was not one of them.
That I am not worthy
of the life of this one or that one
who was brutalized and done to death,
I wish I could do penance.
That I have bread and meat
and fruit when others
all over this teeming earth
have none,
I would do penance...
http://www.hungersite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=1
thank you............................................... .........THANK you.
Laconic or Negligible. If you don't like them I can come up with something else.
My hide hides the heart inside
The other week, not being sure
of what I wanted to say,
I wrote 2,514 words.
Following that,
growing more confident of what I knew,
I wrote 1,257.
Given enough time
and careful study
I will write nothing at all.
One Look in a Grand of Words
A portion of our timeless past
takes a mile in written words
to piece a thought that fails to last
in lieu of what we've seen and heard,
Our greatest senses 2 of 5
Record by ear and witness live,
a tape of history's adverse glory,
far more profound than transcribed story--
For all in all a manuscript's
lines on lines will not depict
a starving youth of weak encumber
whose soul takes flight as his being slumbers.
Last edited by Adolescent09; 07-08-2007 at 09:36 PM.
My hide hides the heart inside
I believe this is the best of yours that I have seen thus far!
All my other poetry was complete crap. It's all been deleted. I've been stumbling on a writer's block for two weeks. This poem in itself took me approximately a half hour to write... but in my normal phase it wouldn't have taken me more than three minutes.
My hide hides the heart inside
Oh, I agree. That is quite nice.
Edit: Ouch! I was just rereading this and my reply here is in agreement with what Prince had to say about your most recent poem here.
Sorry if it looked otherwise.
Last edited by ampoule; 07-09-2007 at 10:18 AM. Reason: to explain myself
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
If you care to do so, you may sing this to the tune of Fernando's Hideaway.
I..get tense..when you get terse
It makes..me wince..and I feel worse
When you're..concise..it's like a vise
That grips me by my little heart.
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
Oh, mon ami... This would bring tears to the eyes of a statue... a beautiful poem... so beautiful... how ungrateful for my own blessings it makes me feel... Shalom, mon ami. Shalom.
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
And to you Shalom u'vracha (Peace and a blessing)Oh, mon ami... This would bring tears to the eyes of a statue... a beautiful poem... so beautiful... how ungrateful for my own blessings it makes me feel... Shalom, mon ami. Shalom.
And by the way Pendragon, I haven't seen anything from you just lately...penance...laconic.
And where is firefangled?
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
He lives at a somewhat
acute angle
the one who’s known as “firefangle.”
And his poems never ever dangle
--that very sure-footed firefangle.
But seek him not! He won’t be caught!
And in his usual noble guise
He’ll be here when he has wrought
Something worthy of our eyes.
Well, okay, but I don't have to like it.
I do like your poem though. Hmmm, maybe I should answer...
Fishing For Fire
Early in the morning I walk to the pier's end glancing at the others fishing
in their yellow slickers covered with wet foggy dew.
They move just barely, a nod, a lift of the finger or stone cold,
remembering the sea or their night on the town.
Without making a sound I stretch and roar, beat my chest and breathe in
the sea air.
I look behind and around and nothing has changed and I give a sigh,
a silent sigh,
That no one has heard how much I love being here.
I find the spot, my spot, worn ever so slightly with my impressions and
I settle there with my feet hanging over the water, swinging lightly with delight.
I open my basket and search among the words for something fat and juicy,
something that would entice him, bring him up out of the water, dripping and squirming, and seeking,
to show himself.
Finally, I see the one that is right and I reach in and pull it out and place it
on my line.
I lie down and hold it out over the water, the word barely touching the surface, and my breath catches as I see him circling below.
Around and around, down, then up, and around and around, I am mesmerized......
I remove the seaweed ribbons from my hair and it tumbles to my waist.
With my hands gracefully pointed, I lean and slink into the dark waters.
He is nowhere to be found but I see a school and swim quickly to catch them.
They flick their tails and dart away from me but I beg them to share their recess with me, but mostly they stare with their round, innocent, unblinking eyes.
I am tired now.
I lean back into the water with my hair floating up all around me like a salty cocoon and I....
"Hey miss! Miss! You better wake up."
I raise my sunburned face.
Drool runs from my mouth.
With my hand shielding my eyes, I look up into a face decorated with a long mustache and sparkling eyes.
"I do believe, missy, something has taken your bait."
Last edited by ampoule; 07-25-2007 at 08:42 PM. Reason: to add some dots and to add a title
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
And the word was....Well, okay, but I don't have to like it.
I do like your poem though. Hmmm, maybe I should answer...
Early in the morning I walk to the pier's end glancing at the others fishing
in their yellow slickers covered with wet foggy dew.
They move just barely, a nod, a lift of the finger or stone cold,
remembering the sea or their night on the town.
Without making a sound I stretch and roar, beat my chest and breathe in
the sea air.
I look behind and around and nothing has changed and I give a sigh,
a silent sigh,
That no one has heard how much I love being here.
I find the spot, my spot, worn ever so slightly with my impressions and
I settle there with my feet hanging over the water, swinging lightly with delight.
I open my basket and search among the words for something fat and juicy,
something that would entice him, bring him up out of the water, dripping and squirming, and seeking,
to show himself.
Finally, I see the one that is right and I reach in and pull it out and place it
on my line.
I lie down and hold it out over the water, the word barely touching the surface, and my breath catches as I see him circling below.
Around and around, down, then up, and around and around, I am mesmerized......
I remove the seaweed ribbons from my hair and it tumbles to my waist.
With my hands gracefully pointed, I lean and slink into the dark waters.
He is nowhere to be found but I see a school and swim quickly to catch them.
They flick their tails and dart away from me but I beg them to share their recess with me, but mostly they stare with their round, innocent, unblinking eyes.
I am tired now.
I lean back into the water with my hair floating up all around me like a salty cocoon and I....
"Hey miss! Miss! You better wake up."
I raise my sunburned face.
Drool runs from my mouth.
With my hand shielding my eyes, I look up into a face decorated with a long mustache and sparkling eyes.
"I do believe, missy, something has taken your bait."
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the word was.......
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anchovy?
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