An outlet for players whose creativity extends beyond the board. Post your original works here!
The posting of song lyrics is not the purpose of this board and as such please refrain from doing so. Exceptions can be made to this rule if you are the copyrighted owner of the lyrics and the lyrics are not found offensive by the majority of the population. This board is a place to post your original works of poetry and prose and also a place for discussion of poetry and related areas.
We have received word from Fencer that other's poetry can be posted to this board. These are the two conditions: 1) When someone posts a known copyrighted poem, he must add the author's name as well 2) If the author is not known, the poem can be posted without problems
Véčet klobu na mloveni
Néni tě dovoleny datlovat do toďteho klobo. Abes mohl datlovat do toďteho klobo, mosiš mit némiň členstvi Brain šiml.
The years are passing quickly and I look deep within
to see if life is being kind and perhaps there I'll find some kin
Somedays I see a stranger there and other times my face shines
and with the wrinkles I do wonder...
laugh lines or hard times?
I often see my momma looking back at me
So that is quite the compliment can't you see?
As she was and is a looker a real beauty they all say
and, I've been told if I be blessed
perhaps, I'll look half as good one day:-)
But then on days I see my aunts
Shirley 'n Lucille, both smiling back at me.
When I was young I was Cille's image and then it passed away...
Now years later can't help but wonder, has it come to stay?
It really is quite strange, I never know who
I might meet when looking in my mirror.
And in my childrens face...
My Brandy and my Crockett
Branded for eternity I now see a hint of me!
I know for sure without a doubt great grannys skin I have.
Oft times I see a hint of my handsome daddy when he was very young
but then.... with that slanted mischievous grin its grandad and my brother!
And I have noticed as my cheeks begin to sag my lips seem to grow thinner...
and if I imagine my eyes to be another color
With this silver that streaks my hair
Ah, my precious Granny Pummill
Now some say 'I look only look like Patty,
No family traits can they find'...
I suspect tis true, I only see myself.
Just a loving mixture of those who walked before ...
Each one so very special and so kind.
Me, I'd like to think as years go by and my youth is left behind
that deep within now a
'real beauty' just begins
for all this world to see and
I shall pray it might stay and never fade away...
Cause if its true what I've been told the love
I have for Jehovah will mark my face like my heart and
I will always 'shine'
This was my Nanas attitude to death too! She died in her 70's... peacefully in her sleep.
Let Me Die a Youngman's Death
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
The late Errol Flynn died from a heart attack on his YACHT with TWO 18 yr. old girls. While never condoning the age of the girls, men everywhere tipped their hat to him.
I like your inputs and I would be pleased but humbled to be on panel if that is what is decided..I have lots to learn, and I have lots yet to share, but we all have different walks of lives we have, an would be so interesting in each others way of looking at the poems....or writings....what ever you decide I would be glad and happy to be apart of...and I feel also this will be a learning tool for me as well...as to how to do it better... and present it better :)
And the words of Pattrica Pummell as you know Wanda I see so much more clearly now that we have met.....ITs beautiful!!!and of course, relate to her words!!!
O čem je toďten plk: Have we not had Tennyson yet?
The Owl
When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
There once was a guy named Ed
Who made other people see red
He was so egotistical
It was thought he was mythical
but it turned out he was sick in the head
1. If I like it, it's mine.
2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5. If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it's mine.
8. If I think it's mine it's mine.
9. If it's yours and I steal it, it's mine.
Yes. Blake is a Prophet of Protest (one of his many facets) against institutional inhumanity, which is part of the reason I love & identify with him. Thus his criticism of regal England during the incipient Industrial Revolution:
HOLY THURSDAY
by William Blake
Is this a holy thing to see
In a rich and fruitful land, --
Babes reduced to misery,
Fed with cold and usurous hand?
Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!
And their son does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns:
It is eternal winter there.
For where'er the sun does shine,
And where'er the rain does fall,
Babes should never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.
If I could write poetry
I would write for you
Would help you imagine
a ride on the wind.
We would travel to countries
where you never been.
I could sit you on a cloud, tis true.
In a sky of sapphire blue.
Then amidst some sparkling rain.
on a rainbow made with you in mind
I would watch as you slide...
Give to you a palace with a moor and gate Perhaps you might like to be king or queen for a day?
You might walk and feel my pain
as we climb up mountains praying for the top then smile and laugh once more
at the thought of my victory and gain.
Maybe take a peek at the golden gates
forget all your burdens and cares
as we fly and walk through the air.
Ah, just think we could do all this and more... If only for a moment or a day or three... A poet I could be.
Life Spans...
I remember how you took my hand when
I was very small and showed to me so much love.
How could I forget grandpa?
And as time passed and you grew ill
it was time to offer out our hand
to help you thru it all.
And so you came to live with us and I was only
twelve...
You grew stronger and seemed to flourish and
I would like to think, it was from the love you felt since you chose to stay.
Through many years of growing up you watched us along the way.
But did you know that I watched you and marvelled at your walk?
Oft times that cane would hinder you
'Toss it aside' ......that was my thought.
But I was young and didn't know why it stood close by.
Just in case you might stumble ..
it was there to rely on.
Much like we do our parents and our grandparents as we grow.
Funny isn't it the things we love so much don't know until it's gone...
But like I used to grab your hand
I can imagine momma did so young and then again when my young ones came along.
Some days I hear your chuckle ringing in my ears and when my tomatoes bloom
I see your face all aglow and I remember you in the garden.
No, never met another who could grow 'em quite like you!
Through all those years and with that cane you walked along the way....
Be it rain or shine it didn't matter
up and down the hill you went to run the ferryboat each day.
And for awhile I'd be hard pressed to say who it was
My grandpa or grandad who liked to
ride the most.
As I look back and picture you with that
shiny red car,
Ever ready just to roll and set on cruise....
Yes, and I can remember a time or two when that cruise got us into trouble and
I learned never hurts having the marshall as your uncle:+)
But in looking back today the thing I learned the most...
was making time for family that very special quality you always had.
Cause often I would hear these words...
Who wants to play a game of checkers or some yahztee...
do you have the time?
Care for a game of aggravation, scrabble or monoply...
Just bought this deck of cards, want to loose a dime?
and I would think, oh no! grandpa's out to get us all.
Will I have to play?
Cause seems like mostly you would win and
those eyes how they would twinkle 'n crinkle as I would hear you shout....
Yep, I'm the Best, I won again....
No doubt I'm the Best!
Looking back tho, I can see the same twinkle when at times we won.
And wee ones too as the art you passed on.
So now I know the joy you felt in teaching and in learning.
It's always nice to win a game and always nice to know
that you taught another and help to mold a young ones mind.
But bigger than the game itself comes the loving and the sharing.
Then setting down to spend sometime with those you love not rushing or hurrying.
So thanks for always reaching out for always having time.....
And you are right, 'You are the Best'
and not just with the name but
your quality in giving with your living made a 'Life span...' of loving along the way.
O čem je toďten plk: Thank You: Aragon KM & Harley
Aragon KM & Harley, thank you!!! You both are to be commended for your superb work in setting up both the Poetry Challenge fellowship and the poetry challenge itself. I urge all to visit the fellowship page where the challenge rules are on display. Would also love to see them posted here at least once for all to see but will leave that up to Aragon's & harley's better judgment. I again urge poetry AND poetry-lovers to put in a request to become Poetry Challenge members. We'd love to have you there.
When I am dead, and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain drenched hair,
Tho you should lean above me broken hearted,
I shall not care.
For I shall have peace.
As leafey trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough.
And I shall be more silent and cold hearted
Than you are now.
Suicide note to her lover who left her.
~~ Sara Teasdale, poet, d. 1933
O čem je toďten plk: The guidelines for the Challenge!!
Poetry Challenge
The Guidelines
The Poetry Challenge Fellowship has been created for one sole purpose, the love of poetry. As with all of life’s challenges it is always good to be judged on how well you have done. To this end, Poetry Challenge has risen to the occasion.
We propose that a ‘Monthly’ challenge be set. Starting on the first of each month you are all free to submit up to Eight poems for consideration. From the 20th until the 27th of each month everyone is free to submit their points (scores / nominations) for any of the peoms that they liked. Scoring as follows:
Fantastic = 10 Points
Not Fused = 1 Points
And so on!
These scores will be sent to appointed ‘Ballot Box’ members. (Harley and Aragon KM) via Private Message. Both of whom will compile a list and compare with each other (to prevent double voting) before compiling a completed list from both.
The top 5 poems will then be posted on the board with the top three poems appearing in the Latest News Section of Poetry Challenge and also as a post on the general Poetry Board.
NB: We understand that not everyone will want their poetry entered into the challenge, and we do not want to put these people off from posting some fantastic poetry on this board. So we would ask that in the subject of you post that you clearly mark your entry as Challenge Entry: [Title of your poem]
Many thanks and get writing!!
I've just had an epiphany, and it explains why I am the way I am, if there really is a true "I". Reading a poem makes your mind, subconsciously, analyze and judge. You read it at your own pace and take it as you feel you should, according to your own understanding of it. There really is no true definite meaning to a poem- everyone understands it differently. Does this sound familiar? Hasn't this same process happened to you everyday of your life, though you've been too blind to realize it? What if you ARE the poem? You're the one being read and analyzed; you’re the one being judged and taken the way they feel you should be! There's no "you" anymore, it's only what they believe is true or not true- nothing specific enough to be determined a fact! Doesn't that just make you want to be a sound, rather than words of a poem?! At least being a sound, you'd be able to be music! This is absurd! Stop reading me at your own free will! Take me for what I really am!
O čem je toďten plk: One I got in my email one day.......
I walked alone.........
I walked alone through Rivendell
For a thousand years or more
But that fair day you came to me
Upon this elven shore.
Your eyes were dreams of far off lands,
Your voice was like a song,
My love for you had an eternal youth,
A love that was not wrong.
Many times we wandered through,
The valleys of green and gold,
We looked upon the crystal lakes
That shined from days of old.
You took my hand and all was clear,
I was safe when in your arms,
I fell for your enchanting spell,
Your rugged ranger charms.
But then one day Lord Elrond spoke,
Of quests to the unknown,
And from that moment you were gone,
Like the North Wind you had flown.
And still I wait under elven skies,
For you to return to me,
If you perish on your road,
My soul to you will fly.
Oh Aragorn, to my heart,
You alone posses the key.
I will love and cherish you this day,
And for all Eternity.
Oh Wanda!!!! Oh I so relate and I can see what she was talking about...and whom:) little did I know.....we could talk about the ferry and know what we were even talking of...and of course she talked of games..........that too:) and I would imagine she could think of maybe going for quick swims....in the Jacks Fork/or Current River??Thank you again for sharing the poems and words from Pattrica Pummill....they are awesome and now close more than ever to my home, my memories!! Thanks again and again !! She is doing well with words..I love it.....Granny!!
Thanks emattie1943 for all the nice comments about Pattricia's Poems. Her poems does bring back many meories don't they? My Dad ran the ferry on Current River for about 4 year's. We lived there in the Lewis house on the river bank.
Thank you all...you are really too kind. I'm sure a kindergarten student would do better,but in the absence of the Greats of this site I thought I'd give it a go to fill up some space ... lol
Down the street you can hear her scream 'you're a disgrace'
As she slams the door in his drunken face.
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbors start to gossip and drool.
He cries 'Oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?'
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green.
And so castles made of sand fall in the sea, eventually
A little Indian brave before he was ten,
Played war games in the woods with his Indian friends,
And he built up a dream that when he grew up
He would be a fearless warrior Indian chief.
Many moons past and more the dream grew strong until
Tomorrow he would sing his first war song,
and fight his first battle but something went wrong,
Surprise attack killed him in his sleep that night.
And so castles made of sand melts into the sea, eventually.
There was a young girl, whose heart was a frown
'Cause she was crippled for life,
and she couldn't speak a sound.
And she wished and prayed she could stop living,
So she decided to die.
She drew her wheelchair to the edge of the shore
And to her legs she smiled 'you won't hurt me no more'
But then a sight she'd never seen made her jump
and say,'look a golden winged ship is passing my way'
And it really didn't have to stop, it just kept on going...
And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, eventually
(do skréše) Jak potřeboješ večmochat staré vzkaz od orčityho špiloša, bóchni na plke o něm a na prvnim řádko za přehlašovacim ménem nandeš možnost okázat jeho zpráve. (konec) (okázat šecke vechetávke)