Very good poems everyone.
Prince! You are so funny! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
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Very good poems everyone.
Prince! You are so funny! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
Native Americans are far from vanishing from my neck of the woods, though they are economically subjugated, to a frightening extent.
Avarice
shoulder folds that hint at
recognizable armor,
creased clothing of domestic stags
butting bent brows wrinkled like
their dollar tip.
I like this one, IP! I can almost see the old miser, in his out-of-fashion clothing, having ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, complained, weedled extras out of the waiter/waitress, and then screwing up his face as he must part with his payment and that dollar, a whole dollar mind you and for what? he thinks, as he puts it on the table and has to jerk his fingers loose as he stalks red-faced away...Quote:
Originally Posted by Il Penseroso
Pen
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...s/ThumbsUp.gif
I did very much like the strong taut poem by IP, and I love this vignette of yours, Pen! Brilliant bit of characterization!Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
Thanks Pen and Prince. Now if only I didn't find myself and some folks around me a bit in that depiction of avarice, I'd feel a little more comfortable with the poem.
More
More
More for me
I really need more
I shall never have enough
Stack it here, stack it there
On the desk or under the chair
The shelf is full, spilled on the floor
I can still walk through it so give me more
What's that I hear, a knock at my door
I cannot get to it so I'll just ignore
The outstretched hand in need
Curse their incessant greed
I just don't have enough
They don't need more
More than me
More
Another update on the words we have written poems about. I think this has been so interesting. I hope others have and I hope others will join us.
Avarice (Ampoule)
Charity (Ampoule)
Gratitude (Ampoule)
Heart (CdnReader)
Home (firefangled)
Homecoming (Pendragon)
Independence (Ampoule)
Laconic (Adolescent09)
Oriental(ism) (Il Penseroso)
Passion (Debrasue)
Patience (Poppy)
Penance (firefangled)
Romance (Zargon)
Seasons (CdnReader)
Sinful Desires (PrinceMyshkin)
Soliloquy (Symphony)
Teach (Ampoule)
Tranquility (stephofthenight)
Trust (Bii)
Vacant (Jon1jt)
Someone, anyone, new word please!
Considering the very lovely poem you posted on the 'Pylon poetry' thread, perhaps:
Childhood
Novelty
Ecclesiastes 1:9:What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
What is the new
but the old rediscovered as if for the first time!
All that is old
is new in the voluntary heart!
And all that is new
is jaded and tired and despised
in the heart that knows only
the first person singular!
Between the “I” and the ”you”
of the universe
there is nothing but the emptiness of space,
the anti-matter
of unlove
waiting, as always,
for the bravest of hearts.
Good choice. I hope you will share a poem here also.Quote:
Originally Posted by TheFifthElement
&^%$*#@ [deleted] [censored] [doubly deleted] [editted] [deleted] [deleted] [deleted] [deleted] [deleted]!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by ampoule
DON'T DO THAT! We could have handled two words! At first I thought 'novelty' was your offering for 'childhood'. Please repost it. It was great!Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
For the word was Childhood, I believe?
TRANSFORMATION #2
The snowflake skies were bright with cold;
the porch sprouted icicle fangs, the roads grew slick.
Strangely, the old man didn’t feel quite so old;
life bubbled inside him; something seemed to remold
him—the years fell away. (Now, that’s quite a trick!)
The snowflake skies were bright with cold
and his boots skidded, frantic for a foothold,
but he laughed at his grandson, hidden behind the Buick.
Strangely, the old man didn’t feel quite so old.
He ducked a well-aimed snowball and didn’t scold.
Instead he fired one back yelling, “You’re on, Rick!”
The snowflake skies were bright with cold
as they snowball fought their way back to the threshold,
laughing wildly at each other’s antics.
Strangely, the old man didn’t feel quite so old,
grabbing his grandson in thin arms to enfold
him in a hug that belied the fact that he was old and sick.
The snowflake skies were bright with cold—
strangely, the old man didn’t feel quite as old…
Dale Harris
©4/4/98
And the word was also Novelty.
ANNIVERSARY
The call that came in was particularly annoying.
It was a tip, anonymous,
of course, on a shipment of bootleg alcohol.
And, as usual, no one else here at the Agency
could go. Still, it could be a lead on the gang we were after,
so I tried hard to forget that it was also our anniversary…
It was always like this on our anniversary,
some stupid, problematic, annoying
little tip that would send me scurrying out after
vague, anonymous
persons. But my job here at the Agency
wasn’t for the soft. There was an alcoholic
slumped by the curb, dreaming his alcohol-
induced dreams. The poor man probably didn’t even know what “anniversary”
meant. We had had a problem with these guys ever since the Agency’s
fiasco at Waco. Tonight, I found it extremely annoying.
He was just a bum, an anonymous
bit of stagnated humanity, but the way he jumped after
I yelled was comical. He fled as if he expected me to chase after
him. I laughed. Stupid, lousy alcoholics!
Because of them I had to track down these shadowy, anonymous
crooks on the night of my anniversary!
Not only that, but this was the sixth year in a row that this annoying
problem had occurred! Blast the AFT Agency!
The vacant warehouse wasn’t all that far from the Agency,
in a rundown neighborhood that you wanted to avoid after
dark. From somewhere inside an exhaust fan made an annoying
racket. One thing for sure, the place reeked of alcohol.
I thought of Laura. Some anniversary!
Well, I hoped the anonymous
tipster was right. There was a shape against the wall; unfocused, anonymous.
“Get your hands up!” I shouted. He was calm. “You from the Agency?”
“I said, put your…” “We’ve got unfinished business, copper. It’s our anniversary”
His face was suddenly visible. Still the same, after
seven years. His clothing was that of the old alcoholic.
He grinned in a way that I’d always found to be very annoying.
It’s annoying, really, writing the paperwork on these anonymous
homicides. But it’s Agency regulations, even on old alcoholics.
And after I write up Big Louie, here, maybe I can finally keep my anniversary!
Dale Harris
© 5/21/00
Some, it seems, are born old
or never acquire the knack
of being foolish and young!
And some, it seems, have both
in good measure.
Yesterday, my daughter, 37,
her lover, 24, and my next to youngest
grand-daughter, going on 6, discovered
the school playground
across the way from me, entered
and went climbing on everything
they could find, then
one of them proposed a game of tag
and 37, 24 and going-on-6 were soon chasing each other
around and around, laughing
their fool heads off and you couldn’t have told
37 from 24 from going-on-6!
A quickie that comes to mind- I've had many spaghetti kisses
You little necked choochy butt,
With spaghetti on your face
Gum in your hair
Mud between your toes
And sticky sucker fingers
It’s time for a bath.
I’ll draw up the warm water with
Lots of bubbles and too many tub toys.
You can leave sand on the bottom
And a ring around the tub.
Once the water has turned cold on the floor
And you are clean and dry,
We’ll find your Spiderman pajamas
And think all the thinks you can think.
Quote:
Originally Posted by motherhubbard
But did he think the thinks
you thought he’d think
or maybe he’d thunk them all before?
And anyway how many thinks
can a little thinker think
while you are mopping up the floor?