And the word is...

Geez, I think you're right. Reading it again with your eyes...I know, you want them back right now...it almost sounds silly from 'I rise up singing' on. I cannot hear the word summertime without thinking of that song. It might be hard to remember now but do you think you knew I was talking about the song before all of that? Do you like my last line?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Seasons

Would you like to fool around, he asked her.
Well, there's no stopping me, she said.
You've changed since last I saw you, he noted.
I can't stop that either, she replied.
But you're always beautiful, he remarked.
It's all in what you like I suppose, she shrugged.
Oh, I like it all, he smiled.
Then touch me, she teased.
He spread his fingers out and caressed her.
She was hot beneath his touch and he held her waist.
She twisted and turned, pulling away, leaving him,
Her blazing colors falling before his eyes.
What have I done to deserve your icy stare, he cried.
It's not you, it's me, I just can't get too close, she answered.
But when will I see you again, he begged.
I'll be around again, fresh and new, she promised.

************************************************** ***

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Oh, my God! I mean, Oh, my God!

No, wait. Let me try to put it some other way: Oh, my God!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Geez, I think you're right. Reading it again with your eyes...I know, you want them back right now...it almost sounds silly from 'I rise up singing' on. I cannot hear the word summertime without thinking of that song. It might be hard to remember now but do you think you knew I was talking about the song before all of that? Do you like my last line?

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I wasn't aware that I'd heard your last line... yet.

Oh, you mean of the poem. Yes, I like it, very very much. And no, I didn't pick up on the play on Gershwin right away, though I did stop and wonder at

A ripple in a pail of rainwater reminds me of a fish, jumping

which of course I see now is the first such allusion but which puzzled me at the time, but I thought well, it's a poem, after all, so I shouldn't expect to understand everything on first reading

But about your erotic poem - I mean, it wasn't about metaphysics, was it? - Oh my God!

ROFLMAO.....Comic Relief....Prince Myshkin....boxer shorts & metaphysics...I love it.....

BTW...ampoule...beautiful poem...from the heart of a beautiful Lady.....bravissima!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Oh, my God! I mean, Oh, my God!

No, wait. Let me try to put it some other way: Oh, my God!

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Are you trying to butter me up? LOL
Well, if not, I sure feel all warm and gooey.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Are you trying to butter me up? LOL
Well, if not, I sure feel all warm and gooey.

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Well, add a bit of parsley, some minced garlic and you'd be all ready to go, or...um, um...

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Well, add a bit of parsley, some minced garlic and you'd be all ready to go, or...um, um...

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Don't you mean yum yum? LOL Guess what I want for breakfast now?
(danger danger...giving Prince a question such as this) :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by jon1jt

NEW WORD:

VACANT

I’ve tried everything else. Starbucks served me a slice until a baby
stroller came barreling by, the kid's arm
pointing at me like the tube of a gun, a table of au pairs chalking up another weekend of bad dates.
“American men, puh!”
her hair spilled like coins. i sat there like a dark hat wondering if things had been different between her and me, and those assembled mouths the length of a garage. all at once how they snarled through tiny slits as I walked out as if on a leash, words still in the back of my throat, the wrinkly-paged poems rolled up taut in my shirt sleeve like a pack of smokes.

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Here ya go folks.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Don't you mean yum yum? LOL Guess what I want for breakfast now?
(danger danger...giving Prince a question such as this) :D

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...Prince slopes away in :blush: embarrassment at having been rendered, finally, without a comeback!

Yes Vacancy

Like neons, standing in a line
with palm trees and pools and
televisions in every room,
So I am for you.
Like lots, cleared of broken glass
and other debris and leveled
for games of baseball and tag,
So I am for you.
Like chairs and tables waiting
behind freshly washed windows
beckoning with promises of treats,
So I am for you.
Like minds gone crazy with forget
now empty of old memories and
needing new, fresh lessons,
So I am for you.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by ampoule

Yes Vacancy

Like neons, standing in a line
with palm trees and pools and
televisions in every room,
So I am for you.
Like lots, cleared of broken glass
and other debris and leveled
for games of baseball and tag,
So I am for you.
Like chairs and tables waiting
behind freshly washed windows
beckoning with promises of treats,
So I am for you.
Like minds gone crazy with forget
now empty of old memories and
needing new, fresh lessons,
So I am for you.

---

I love this! Love the pace of it, with the refrain. You need no lessons other than the ones you must be practicing. You get better and better. I have been popping in and out lately because of family and work, so I failed to comment on several of your poems that I felt inadequate time to write what I wanted to say. Kudos to you.

I would offer one suggestion that was given me recently by Bii about the use of the word like. The refrain you set up here is creating the simile very well and more subtly, you don't need the word like.

Vacant Ground

The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,
But Peyote is strong enough they say to divide the body and the soul.
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

Hoping to find an answer in the Spirit World if an answer can be found.
He is a Chief and an Elder, feeling weak and growing old—
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,

But The People now are vanishing, withered leaves blown around—
Treaties broken, their land taken, they must go where they are told.
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

The Land once teeming with his People, now just vacant of all sound.
Will the Spirits whisper to him as they used to in days of old?
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,

But somehow the mind inside is clear and sharp and listens for a sound—
“Come to me, brothers, now I need guides. The People hunger and are cold.”
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

The answers he receives are not the ones he sought but he accepts them anyhow—
He bows his head and somehow a golden glow seems to enter to his soul:
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground…

Dale Harris (Pendragon)
© 7/21/07

vacant eyes, vacant land, vacant dreams....vacant, but full of beauty, your poem.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pendragon

Vacant Ground

The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,
But Peyote is strong enough they say to divide the body and the soul.
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

Hoping to find an answer in the Spirit World if an answer can be found.
He is a Chief and an Elder, feeling weak and growing old—
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,

But The People now are vanishing, withered leaves blown around—
Treaties broken, their land taken, they must go where they are told.
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

The Land once teeming with his People, now just vacant of all sound.
Will the Spirits whisper to him as they used to in days of old?
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,

But somehow the mind inside is clear and sharp and listens for a sound—
“Come to me, brothers, now I need guides. The People hunger and are cold.”
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground—

The answers he receives are not the ones he sought but he accepts them anyhow—
He bows his head and somehow a golden glow seems to enter to his soul:
The drug has faded out the eyes that once were dark and brown,
He sits there all alone upon a buffalo skin high upon the sacred ground…

Dale Harris (Pendragon)
© 7/21/07

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Wow! You've certainly got hold of this form and use it here as if it were the release from shackles rather than any sort of constraint. I love the music in this as much as I do the thoughts.

Thank you.

The vacant mind is a spacious room,
high ceilinged, unfurnished,

waiting to be filled,
a field that has yet to be tilled.

The plowmen approach
and a family in need of a home.

The vacant mind is an as yet
unwritten poem.