No poem - this is just to say that I love this thread! What a great idea!
No poem - this is just to say that I love this thread! What a great idea!
"Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go" Blake
Join in! Join in!Originally Posted by Isagel
OK! Your wish is my command.
Did you
take out the trash?
Good, I´ll
do the dishes and
someone needs to
buy bread for tomorrow.
We play house
even as the ambivalence escalates.
Next, courtesy of the poem of the week:
Heigh-ya said Baudelaire
"Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go" Blake
I'm glad I pushed for that one. Great stuff.
Thank you :-)
"Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go" Blake
Richard Brautigan was
driving a 42 Pickup
down the Champs Elysée
when he picked up a hitchhiker
called Baudelaire
How far are you going
said Brautigan
I'm off to the Jardin du Diable
said Baudelaire
to check on my buds
Just then Brigitte
Bardot passed on
the promenade
fondling a stote
on her way to appear
on Celebrity Big Brother
Salut said Baudelaire
Can you pass on
a message to
Mon hypocrite
Lecteur, mon semblable
Mon Grand Frère
What's the message
said Brigitte
Heigh-ya said Baudelaire
Last edited by blp; 02-08-2007 at 06:46 PM.
The above is a parody of a Richard Brautigan poem I read and memorised at the age of about 15. From memory, it goes:
Baudelaire was driving
a 42 pickup
across Galilee
when he picked up a hitchhiker
named Jesus
how far are you going
said Jesus
Out of this world
said Baudelaire
Jesus said
take me as far as
the hill of Golgotha
I have an appointment
and I must not be late
The next endline for someone to write towards is:
Just a general description of something not there.
Engraved on stone,
his name,
date of birth,
date of death,
beloved.
Just a general description
of something not there.
(for someone lost last week, far to early. Almost strange, the way your sentence was what I needed to write down. I might need to work abit more on this poem, but there it is)
Edit - I forgot to say that I liked what you did with my nonsense line, now I have to go and look for more poems by Richard Brautigan. Thanks for posting the poem.
Next:
My clock is made of glass
Last edited by Isagel; 02-08-2007 at 02:06 PM.
"Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go" Blake
Gets me in the gut a bit, that. I don't mean this in a superstitious way, but this game does seem to pull out meaning in surprising ways. Glad it was helpful to you.
The ticking strums like pain
kaliedoscopic in one's mind,
pricking vain illusion
to surface in due time.
Shards fall like fetters
and minutes too shall pass,
the moment's all too fragile
my clock is made of glass.
the turntable spun magnanimous beats.
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
- John Berryman
Joy of jaded grass
Glittering stones
Secret chambers
Obliterated
By a cold
Touch
Of
Time
Told stories
Of red ch'i p'ao
And exotic phonograph upon
A hundred moons
Kept in the record
Of grave dust
No more-
The old Shanghai singer
Sang the evening primrose
No more-
The turntable spun
Magnanimous beats
Buffalos run wild.
Last edited by white camellia; 02-10-2007 at 12:29 PM.
There is no polite way
of being happy
There are vast scavenged plains;
Sun-bleached bones are polished daily
Where are the steady creatures for their cages?
Where are their sun-sweats and migraines?
Their memories keep me warm at night
I am no sorcerer or mage
I look upon the red stained walls;
Creatures with magic weapons
Are not there;
Buffalos run wild
A cloud of blood within the veins of winds
My eyes are golden
At the beach I shade my eyes
the light shines through my fingertips
making bones visible.
I am
translucent,
I am
a cloud of blood within the veins of winds.
(Thank you Il Penseroso for making something beautiful!)
the jester flees the city.
"Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go" Blake
city divine and shadowed
two towers struck to ashes
fifty balloons star the sky
the grim new year approaches
wolves are lurking at the door
the jester flees the city
=====
liquid granite moans its pain
se non e vero, e molto ben'trovato
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