Little Sis
Remember picking the wild bluebells,
Little sis?
Dancing in and out the woodland's dappled light,
Skipping through the bright forest glades,
Hands blackened by gummy sap,
wading knee deep in pale blue.
Remember how their green stems turned to white,
As we drew them from the mould,
How the bells shook a silent alarm,
When we tore them from their birth bulb,
Great armfulls we gathered,
Giddy with the excess of plenty,
Leaving careless trails of discarded plants.
"Some for Mum, some for Aunty Ivy,
"And for Grandma and for Fred",
We piled up the heaps of our generosity,
Greenwhite stems already wilting,
Pale blue flowers darkening to purple in death.
Then we found a wood ant's nest,
Newly awakened in the spring sunshine,
And ran to find sticks to poke it with.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-05-2013 at 04:17 PM.
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Good idea to put in one thread.
The only caveat is if you decide to publish and wish to edit/delete your content for some reason on litnet - I believe one can only do so for so long on this forum. For most I don't believe this is a concern. Being scattered amongst the various threads has its advantages sometimes (lol).
I decided to publish on the web on my own (free) website http://tailor-stately.110mb.com/ ,which unfortunately is down again - as is the case when my provider's servers go down http://110mb.grd.net.pl/server-monitor/ . It's as variable as the weather. I abide in Box 17 - which is why I sometimes rant about Box 17 (odd that Box 17 has a Canadian flag). But, one gets what one pays for. I may go the pay way eventually so I have complete control. However, even with my free site I can save my index.htm file (the file I upload to my website) on my computers (always available and with backups) if I would wish to send my collection as html via email (for instance to my Mum in Alaska).
I've also been researching ePublishing, so that if I do ever ePublish I can edit my website as to the content I desire to remain viewed to the public.
I enjoy your poetry and other contributions to the forums.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Last edited by tailor STATELY; 09-05-2013 at 08:03 PM. Reason: reference
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
Auntshecky : I'm trying - so I know how good yours are. I have never seen them before, but I reckon they are (or could be) a very effective literary version of a political cartoon.
tailor STATELY: All you need to do is copy and paste to the latest reply box, then you can tinker away to your heart's content.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-06-2013 at 08:42 AM.
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Well done my friend. "A Kings Lament" still does it for me.
Last edited by Gilliatt Gurgle; 09-06-2013 at 09:51 PM. Reason: added the letter "A"
Dante at the Worlds end.
I laid my head upon the mossy knoll,
For weary was I and far-travelled,
There soothed by murmurings of fountains close,
And lulled by breeze among it's trees,
In that forest glade, sleep profound I met.
How long in that parody of death I laid,
Non was there to tell, nor guess,
When sense of life returned ,cold marble pressed my cheek,
And silence surrounded me unnatural -
As though gone had Nature from the Earth.
Courage at last I found to ope my eyes,
And saw I lay upon a mighty thoroughfare,
Smooth paved with stones of hue contrasting,
Laid out in pattern geometrical.
Great edifices, smooth built, lined the street,
Though made of what material I could not say.
Nor stone, nor wood, nor iron, nor lead I saw,
The far horizon did my eye engage,
For beset with lighted casements square
A massy golden orb was there displayed,
Sentience I knew therein resided,
And so to it addressed my question.
“What is this place and how came I here? “
The answer came to me not through the air,
But reverberated in my very whole .
“You have not moved, this is the place,
where once wearied long ago you slept,”
With wonder I pondered this strange tale,
Till urgent doubt assailed my thoughts..
Fearing answer, for ne'er so 'lone felt I,
I asked again. "Where are all the people?"
“Gone” was the reply, “you are the last.”
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-16-2013 at 02:59 AM.
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Put 'em all in a collection and call it Shepherd's Pie.
J
Or Yorkshire Pudding.
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Steak and Kidney pie... ummmmmmmmmmmmm!
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
Ah-ha found another two, I'd forgotten about this one
What Good is a Pencil ?
So here we are up close in the bed,
But!
My captain lies fallen. Cold and dead,
Embarrassing.!
What good is a pencil without any lead?
Pointless!.
“Its not you, it's me - hard day,” I said,
Excuses!.
She - “Once more my signals you have misread,”
Not again!
“So gerroff I'm reading a good book instead,”
50 Shades?
She rolled and took with her all the bedspread
Magnificent!
I admired her rump like a fine Thoroughbred.
Horsewhip?
Ironic are the paths that relationships tread,
Mazey.
For no sooner denied than lust raised its head,
Too late?
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-09-2013 at 01:03 PM.
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Jacob and Esau.
The parting is a bad one,
There's no doubt about that,
And its shadow shall appear,
somewhere down the line,
Revisiting the generations,
The sons of their sons.
“Don't be like that,” said Jacob,
The trickster to his mark,
“It was written, what can I say?”
And he shrugged his Hebrew shrug,
And he smiled his winning smile,
And he offered his hand to Esau
And Esau knew they must part.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-09-2013 at 01:04 PM.
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'What good is a pencil without any lead?
Pointless!.'
You can prendrelemick, but you can't take him anywhere.
J
A Tragic Tale of Lies, Deceit and Death.
I'll tell you everything I can,
There's little to relate,
I first set eyes on Billy Brown,
Coming in the garden gate.
He had a tiger on a string,
And a monkey on his arm,
A parakeet was on his head,
But he kept a sense of calm.
About his coat some field mice ran,
Pursued by a tabby cat,
And from his waist coat pocket,
There peeped a fat brown rat.
Around each leg there coiled a snake,
One red, the other blue,
And in the air above his head,
A flock of ravens flew.
He crossed the lawn to where I stood,
And raised his parrot hat,
In educated tones he asked,
If I had seen his gnat.
"I had him half a mo ago,
I swear I heard his buzz,
But now he's gone and wandered off,
It's the kind of thing he does."
"He's in with a bad crowd you see,
Of mosquitos lowly bred,
He's out all hours sucking blood,
He thinks it gives street cred."
I'd seen a cloud of midges,
Dancing in the sun,
but that was half an hour ago,
And certainly more than one.
There were greenfly on the peonies,
But their colour was all wrong,
So I couldn't tell Billy Brown,
Where his gnat had gone.
"If you see him send him home,"
Adding "Eric is his name,"
Then he whistled to the tiger,
And left the way he came.
When He'd gone I hung my head,
Filled with guilty shame,
For well I knew that in my hand,
Were Eric's squashed remains.
Last edited by prendrelemick; 09-10-2013 at 03:43 PM.
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Dreams of Trees
In the deepest part of the ancient wood,
Where beneath their twisted mossy boughs,
The trees hoard the darkness,
Never allowing a chink of it out into the light,
There, down in a deep valley,
Where no bird sings or squirrel stirs,
Where no green shoot has risen for a hundred years,
There sleeps the oldest tree,
Its knarled trunk and knotted roots,
Twist and groan,
As it dreams of being a seagull again.
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