Poetry Threadgreenspun.com : LUSENET : FRL friends : One Thread |
I was chatting with Kritter last night. I would like to see more of the creative side of forumites. In that spirit I will present a poem I wrote in 1984: I am concerned how it will format-we shall see.Rush Hour:
They move in small, quickening circles blurs of twos, threes, and more stumble Clumsily up and down unrelenting stairs. Out of the doors they fall, flotsam of buses and trains unsuspecting plankton in a wave of freshened flesh and pressed cloth Which breaks at all angles through cracks out into the street. The undifferentiated, coagulated lumps of wax sport drooping faces divining for coffe.
Out they rumble into the streets, hopscotching from corner to corner, human pseudopods stretching between cars and bicycles filling avenues and sidestreets with trivial chatter.
In its frenzied march from home to phone the amorphous mob carves A living sculpture A model of skin and steel joined in the disordered gyrations of a psychotic ballet.
Soon In perfectly shaped cubicles built into the sky Chairs fill, cups fill, the throng of legs and arms dwindles and suddenly, among the thrusting, jutting structures The world comes into focus.
-- FutureShock (gray@matter.think), June 15, 2000
Awesome poem, FS. Couldn't come up with anything good enough to add of my own. I'm still working on it though. I'm hoping my fellow FRLians will share some serious poetry here,..but it could be no one wants to follow that fine piece of work!
-- kritter (kritter@adelphia.net), June 18, 2000.
nice poem, futureshock.....
i just saw woody allen's "mahatten" today for the first time, and your poem seems to illustrate it well.....("i think i just heard the crysler building explode") heh
and kritter.....serious??????
awww....do we have to?
all i have to offer is a "pome"......and it's not at all serious.......
; )
-- mebs (mebs@joymail.com), June 19, 2000.
Serious poetry? Does that mean that poetry which celebrates lighter emotions is not serious? I could write about sorrow, pain and loss - I know them, but I really prefer to write (and think about) joy, friendship and fun. I think those ought to qualify as serious subjects, too (being an optimist). So :.
Emotional words
I share them with all of you
Are you listening?
,
Celebrate with me
Life's joys, laughter and wonders
Treasured friendships, too
.
-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), June 19, 2000.
Roses are red,Violets are blue,
I caint do poetry,
How bout yew?
-- Greybear (greybear@home,.com), June 20, 2000.
ode to 'lil snickee we knew rite off that we'd have to be tricky
when we made up our minds to shave 'lil snickee
we knew 'lil snickee wouldn't think it kind,
if'n 'lil snickee saw what we had in mindso we all cum at 'lil snikee fast
cuz we figured 'lil snickee just cudn't last
agin our pawr'ful mite combined
but snickee run ta the woods 'n climbed!a small pine tree
an so we shookit
alluh us hollerin "Watch out!" 'n "Lookit!"
we shook and shook............
'lil snickee just took it!so to this day the shavin's not dun
it shore looks like 'lil snickee's dun won
we tried luring 'lil snickee down with a treat
(but if ya look up thru the branches
you can still see the feet)a pome by
-- mebs (mebs@joymail.com), June 20, 2000.
Small birds flitting from tree to groundSwallows and robins practice their flight
Insects and worms must be found
Kill and eat all in sight
-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), June 23, 2000.
12:18 am--------
I've been lying here, me and the cat.
The fan overhead is slowly grumbling.
There's a book I've been looking at,
Reading half-aloud to myself, mumbling
-
Some folks went by on an evening walk
And a car that we didn't see.
The cat sat and stared; we didn't talk.
I guess that way she's a lot like me.
--------------------
(From my days under the influence of Rod McKuen)
------------------------------------------
-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 27, 2000.
TOUCHERSShe would shiver now, where I touch her skin
And my eyes can only whisper through her hair.
------- It's been forbidden, by her, or me;
------- We were touchers, once, you see.
-
And more than touchers, we were friends.
The role she chose led me from dispair.
------- The truest test of any toucher
------- Is the pathway you teach to the other
-
The paths she showed led me within,
And by purest miracle, found her waiting there.
------- I wonder, is it her fear of sin,
------- Or fear of touching me, again?
-------------------------------------------------------------
-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 27, 2000.
Where have you gone, my love, my dear?
You've left behind all you have here.
His gaze afixed upon the screen, as though
he's lost inside a dream.
To venture forth in day and night while
I await him, out of sight.
A winter and a summer pass,
I cannot reach behind the glass,
to pull him out, it's can't be done,
where have you gone my dearest one?
When LO he comes back to the now..and hands me gifts
in hope, somehow..
that I'll remain here by his side...he calles to me
"My lovely bride"..
A minute seems eternity
And then he's gone away from me.
He fades to white and then to black
And now I know he won't be back.
I lay in sunshine..walk under stars..
The world is here, it once was ours.
Now it is mine alone to know...
I grab this world..and let him go.
-- kritter (kritter@adelphia.net), June 28, 2000.
I'm so alone and yet your here
You're near and yet your never near
Three feet is as a thousand miles
I cannot reach you with my smiles
I don't know what to do.
The hours pass without reward
The day flies 6y and I'm ignored
I can't help feeling I'm unfurled
Competing against an entire world
I don't know what to do.
It's 6een too long to live this way
I get more frightened every day
You already know just what I am feeling
Your choice is made, it is revealing
I don't know what to do.
6ut I'm too old to start anew
I couldn't if I wanted to
It isn't fair, I've 6een so good
I don't deserve this.
Crap.
-- kritter (kritter@adelphia.net), July 07, 2000.
I liked this thread, and wanted to revive it anyway, but Debra started a thread over on the uncensored forum which dealt with the idea of sophisticated and complex minds, and what questions they would ask. The site she quoted (I'm link impaired) listed many of today's best and brightest; scientists, philosophers, archetects, computer visionaries, ect. I thought you might be interested in her thread, and my answer to it, which I copy here:----------------
I think it telling, that none among the questioners were poets.
---------------------
...the world has visibly been recreated in the night. Mornings of creation, I call them. In the midst of the marks of a creative energy recently active, while the sun is rising with more than usual splendor, I look back ......for the era of this creation, not into the night, but to a dawn for which no man ever rose early enough. A morning which carries us back beyond the Mosaic creation, where crystallizations are fresh and unmelted. It is the poets hour. Mornings when men are new-born, men who have the seeds of life in them.
- .......................Henry David Thoreau, January 26, 1853
------------------------------------------------
When all the secrets are revealed,
When all the poets, gone to sleep,
Who then will hear our appeal,
Who then will hear us weep?
- ..............Lon Frank
---------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------
-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), July 18, 2000.
It calls to my hearts ears,Pulling at its strings
Loreleis song.
-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), July 18, 2000.
Rainy reading-day, Ill fetch a bookMy mate (a frustrated librarian) says,
Heres one, on how to cook snook.
No thanks, its not the mood Im in.
Well hows this, one, then,
On motorcycle maintenance and the art of Zen?
No, no, do find another.
(Im afraid I judged that book by its cover.)
O.K., try this, neither snook nor Zen,
The politics of the amphibian?
But then sun flooded the room,
And failing at my task, I could only assume,
The halls of gardens and moors
Where croaks the warty orators,
Are neither Democrat nor Republican
But naturally, of course, toad-talitarian.
---------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------
-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), July 25, 2000.
Oh, Lon, you croak me up!
-- Linda (who hasn't a poetic bone in her body@home.com), July 26, 2000.