Sour Milk
the ventricle down effect
Spit
After the epilogue, the apologies
Once again and again
love you more
darkness falls on the dandelions
table talk props
do everything pass raving even stop saying I only no
reflections in a doorknob
small rooms
furniture for dolls
new perspectives in yearning
oaf cheats death
read only
I was so blue then I thought even the oxygen was ostracising me
Apologies for everyday occasions
barked knuckles
I decided long ago my first collection would be entitled Cracked Headstones, because I wrote so much dark poetry then. Even thought about trying to edit a magazine with that title, the only requirement being dark poetry. Now I don't know. Echoes From the Edge, Sonnets From the Dragon, The Hermit Awakened, who knows? I probably will never rise to a book. I haven even sold to a magazine in years, I just quit. It wasn't that I wasn't being sucsessful, by poetry standards, I did very well. I just lost heart.
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...
I like it when people just quit
A guitarist said that once to a female drummer after she'd parked her sticks and walked off stage at a gig I was at in Liverpool. Another potential title perhaps.
Broken Frame is the name i've given my poems collectively.
"Come away O human child!To the waters of the wild, With a faery hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand."
W.B.Yeats
"If it looks like a Dwarf and smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf (or a latrine wearing dungarees)"
Artemins Fowl and the Lost Colony by Eoin Colfer
my poems-please comment Forum Rules
I would have named it "The Nation of the Glorious Turnip" but that name is already taken for something else, so I instead opted to go with "Martian Poetry: Musings from the king"
Now all I need to do is write enough poetry to fill it up.
As for out of it unexpected titles; I say bollocks, the Martian King is proud of his poetry, and is not going to mask it with names like 'onion rings from the womb' or 'nature's naked napkins for postulated poetic poo'
I'd rather reserve those titles for an herbal essence tea that soothes my brains when I have a headache.
There is no darkness, there is no light, there is only Lasagne!
I was at a program this past Saturday and the speaker, at the end of his talk, said, "I'll stop now". I loved it. I think that could be a good title.Originally Posted by blp
I like that door knob one blp.
Pen, those are great titles for your books, published or not.
I've already named one The Pathetic Years: Poems That Make Me Sick So Why Would You Want To Read Them. A little long I guess.
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
The Almost-Poems.
Symphonied.
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
"Come away O human child!To the waters of the wild, With a faery hand in hand, For the worlds more full of weeping than you can understand."
W.B.Yeats
"If it looks like a Dwarf and smells like a Dwarf, then it's probably a Dwarf (or a latrine wearing dungarees)"
Artemins Fowl and the Lost Colony by Eoin Colfer
my poems-please comment Forum Rules
I think a title appropriate for someone calling himself 'Lone Wolf' would be...
Flow Reversed
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
Lone Wolf, eh? Had a friend once, many moons ago who called himself Lone Wolf. At the time I was going by Rawhide Kid, later to be changed to Wildcat by a black guy who saw me in a fight. Ah, the 70's. We thought we could conquer the world while "Takin' It Easy..." Last I heard about my "Lone Wolf" he was in Chi-town.
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...
I don't know what I'd call my 1st collection of poems...maybe:
When I Dreamed
Time Passed
Whatever happened to...
Poems By Me And Other Ridicules Things
To See No Longer
There's Always Room for Seconds
"O reason, reason, abstract phantom of the waking state, I had already expelled you from my dreams, now I have reached a point where those dreams are about to become fused with apparent realities: now there is only room here for myself. "
-Louis Aragon
Idealist.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
The Incoherent Ramblings of ______
Blackberries
Black & White
Wonderful Sadness
Do u by any chance read Tagore?
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
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