Poetry corner
Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2023 6:27 am
.
Cockney Twang
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Nose
Eye
Ear
Mouth
- Andrew Seas
Philosophy Now Forum
For the discussion of all things philosophical.
https://canzookia.com/
Poetry corner
Page 1 of 3
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2023 7:10 am
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 12:00 am
roses are red
no, books are read
now go sit in the corner
-Imp
no, books are read
now go sit in the corner
-Imp
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 2:18 am
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 5:30 am
I decided to delete it.attofishpi wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 2:18 amWhat happened to your poem?
Fool Stop in "Poetry Corner" is really not the standard we are expecting.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 7:44 am
To be plagued with sight
in the Land of the Blind,
—to know birth is death
and that Death is kind—
is to be flogged like Eve
(stripped, sentenced and fined)
because evil is “good”
in some backwards mind.
in the Land of the Blind,
—to know birth is death
and that Death is kind—
is to be flogged like Eve
(stripped, sentenced and fined)
because evil is “good”
in some backwards mind.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 8:11 am
God is love, the parson whined.
Yes, and is he also blind?
—T. H. White
Yes, and is he also blind?
—T. H. White
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 10:05 am
Well, this thread could be a nice one. Could you please find something other than a dot to start it!?
(you can edit as many times as U want)
..If you care to answer...Y did U delete the poem?
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 10:37 am
I'll try and think of something.attofishpi wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 10:05 amWell, this thread could be a nice one. Could you please find something other than a dot to start it!?Maia wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 5:30 amI decided to delete it.attofishpi wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 2:18 am
What happened to your poem?
Fool Stop in "Poetry Corner" is really not the standard we are expecting.
(you can edit as many times as U want)
..If you care to answer...Y did U delete the poem?
I felt, on reflection, it was a bit too personal.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 11:41 am
I know that feeling - I had a writing prompt from Adelaide Uni writing - I forget, but basically ..you are in a bookshop and when you pick a book a ghost appears.
Well, I decided to write a 'poem' for it and had never had anything to do with the writer group - and I posted it on their Facebook thingy - when I woke up sober, I deleted it and apologised without REASON. (the reason was - it - the below - was very personal).
So.
..this was it.
I don't care NE more - let us post our hearts..no matter how covered in blood our sleeves are.
https://www.androcies.com/Prose/Laura%2 ... Three.html
Laura, Two divided by Three
Past quaint shops,
I wandered home,
late at night,
at chess dethroned.
Something caught my eye,
there was...light.
A candle flickered,
beside a knight.
So I pushed the door,
and entered inside.
An old man asleep,
awoke in fright.
Fear leapt into his eyes,
it seemed,
glazed over,
the eyes now beamed.
"Pick a book!",
shrieked the man,
"..but make it quick,
this eternal plan!"
I looked around,
well I guess, they're
books!
The dust so thick,
disguised their look.
"Pick a book,
pick it now!",
shrieked the man,
beneath a frown.
"I'm heading home,
all in time."
"Then head there quick,
or else,
you'll die.
Pick a book, you must now!"
I looked around.
"From which side should I pick?"
A Grandfather clock,
began to tick.
My heartbeat seemed,
in sync with it.
The old man said,
"Be clock-wise and think,
are we down-under,
after all,
or is it those 'up-top',
that have been fooled?"
I began to quiz,
to fathom it out,
is to think of the East.
"Clock-wise, we are up top,"
is what I said.
To which he replied,
"Then go there instead."
The East side of the shop,
is where I looked,
and from a shelf,
I picked a book.
C.J. Dennis,
was in my hand,
The Chase of Ages,
and here I stand.
I opened a page.
The clock stopped,
and the man shrieked,
"Get out of here,
the time is weak!"
I turned to my right,
but quickly I left,
for stood there behind me,
was beyond my breath.
I crossed the street,
and across the grass,
C.J. Dennis,
came to life,
from brass.
"I can slow that ghost,
my friend,
but Baphomet,
will come to life,
in the end.
You must strike him,
and stand your ground,
upon the threshold,
of your own house.
Take this sword,
Excalibur, it is,
now my word,
its calibre denied!"
"Then I shall kill him,
and restore the Templar,
pride!"
As I took the sword,
I remembered my past life,
that evil Pope,
and all his lies.
"Don't forget the,
Song of Rain,
that the A.I.
and entropy,
art to blame!
Now run,
my friend and,
don't hesitate,
or else we are doomed,
our final fate.
This ghost of Baphomet,
it will follow you home,
and upon the threshold,
of your throne,
turn and strike that lethal blow."
"OK. Clarrie", is all I said,
to this gentle man of word,
now dead?
I swung my sword,
kill him now,
is what I thought.
But indeed,
I could not!
For Baphomet was air,
just the essence,
of a visual plot!
Come on darling,
answer the phone,
open the door,
the threshold,
the throne.
I ran,
I ran,
upon my soles,
chased by the one,
king of arseholes.
The answer came,
the sweet voice,
leapt out,
leaving no doubt,
The plan was set,
for she had dreamt,
it all about.
I felt to shout,
"Baphomet,
there is no doubt!
there is no doubt!
from which of that,
you are out!"
Excalibur!
It will slice that fence,
for its metal,
is not so dense.
I took a shortcut,
my breath so thin,
I sliced a cut,
through the,
corrugated skin.
I pushed, and,
split that fence,
right through.
It was tight of fit,
as I stumbled,
upon dew.
Now I could hear,
Baphomet's breath,
it was turning to beast,
of animal flesh.
I got back to my feet,
how shall,
or shalt not,
we,
slay this infernal,
beast?
I ran again,
I ran,
I ran,
My heart,
held out,
for this final,
plan.
Of which I knew,
of nothing more,
than to get,
to that bloody door!
I jumped the gate,
oh I hate that gate,
for from,
the tree of knowledge,
I had ate.
As I got to the porch,
and there she stood,
the most beautiful lady,
ever overlooked.
"Hand me the sword,"
is what she said,
her two soles,
upon the threshold,
spread.
This final plan,
it must be hers,
for C.J. Dennis,
knew of this curse.
I held the blade,
and upon her grasp,
she thrust Excalibur,
deep into my heart.
I fell to my knees,
and then to the floor.
I saw her tears,
whilst stood at the door.
I cried out...Christie!
Why?
Oh, why?
For long and deep,
I did strive.
There was not a word,
spoken from her.
But I knew,
deep inside,
for what she saw,
and short of sight.
I rolled my head,
as I died,
to see Baphomet,
grinning,
his usual delight.
I turned to my side,
as I awoke,
in bed and all alone,
and there I chocked.
It was just another,
dream and again,
I'm all alone.
Still alive,
but just,
an ordinary bloke.[/size]
https://www.androcies.com/Prose/Laura%2 ... Three.html
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 12:04 pm
I hope they liked it. Poetry is something of a solitary vice, for me, I think, and I would never dare share some of the embarrassing stuff I've come out with over the years.attofishpi wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 11:41 amI know that feeling - I had a writing prompt from Adelaide Uni writing - I forget, but basically ..you are in a bookshop and when you pick a book a ghost appears.
Well, I decided to write a 'poem' for it and had never had anything to do with the writer group - and I posted it on their Facebook thingy - when I woke up sober, I deleted it and apologised without REASON. (the reason was - it - the below - was very personal).
So.
..this was it.
I don't care NE more - let us post our hearts..no matter how covered in blood our sleeves are.
https://www.androcies.com/Prose/Laura%2 ... Three.html
Laura, Two divided by Three
Past quaint shops,
I wandered home,
late at night,
at chess dethroned.
Something caught my eye,
there was...light.
A candle flickered,
beside a knight.
So I pushed the door,
and entered inside.
An old man asleep,
awoke in fright.
Fear leapt into his eyes,
it seemed,
glazed over,
the eyes now beamed.
"Pick a book!",
shrieked the man,
"..but make it quick,
this eternal plan!"
I looked around,
well I guess, they're
books!
The dust so thick,
disguised their look.
"Pick a book,
pick it now!",
shrieked the man,
beneath a frown.
"I'm heading home,
all in time."
"Then head there quick,
or else,
you'll die.
Pick a book, you must now!"
I looked around.
"From which side should I pick?"
A Grandfather clock,
began to tick.
My heartbeat seemed,
in sync with it.
The old man said,
"Be clock-wise and think,
are we down-under,
after all,
or is it those 'up-top',
that have been fooled?"
I began to quiz,
to fathom it out,
is to think of the East.
"Clock-wise, we are up top,"
is what I said.
To which he replied,
"Then go there instead."
The East side of the shop,
is where I looked,
and from a shelf,
I picked a book.
C.J. Dennis,
was in my hand,
The Chase of Ages,
and here I stand.
I opened a page.
The clock stopped,
and the man shrieked,
"Get out of here,
the time is weak!"
I turned to my right,
but quickly I left,
for stood there behind me,
was beyond my breath.
I crossed the street,
and across the grass,
C.J. Dennis,
came to life,
from brass.
"I can slow that ghost,
my friend,
but Baphomet,
will come to life,
in the end.
You must strike him,
and stand your ground,
upon the threshold,
of your own house.
Take this sword,
Excalibur, it is,
now my word,
its calibre denied!"
"Then I shall kill him,
and restore the Templar,
pride!"
As I took the sword,
I remembered my past life,
that evil Pope,
and all his lies.
"Don't forget the,
Song of Rain,
that the A.I.
and entropy,
art to blame!
Now run,
my friend and,
don't hesitate,
or else we are doomed,
our final fate.
This ghost of Baphomet,
it will follow you home,
and upon the threshold,
of your throne,
turn and strike that lethal blow."
"OK. Clarrie", is all I said,
to this gentle man of word,
now dead?
I swung my sword,
kill him now,
is what I thought.
But indeed,
I could not!
For Baphomet was air,
just the essence,
of a visual plot!
Come on darling,
answer the phone,
open the door,
the threshold,
the throne.
I ran,
I ran,
upon my soles,
chased by the one,
king of arseholes.
The answer came,
the sweet voice,
leapt out,
leaving no doubt,
The plan was set,
for she had dreamt,
it all about.
I felt to shout,
"Baphomet,
there is no doubt!
there is no doubt!
from which of that,
you are out!"
Excalibur!
It will slice that fence,
for its metal,
is not so dense.
I took a shortcut,
my breath so thin,
I sliced a cut,
through the,
corrugated skin.
I pushed, and,
split that fence,
right through.
It was tight of fit,
as I stumbled,
upon dew.
Now I could hear,
Baphomet's breath,
it was turning to beast,
of animal flesh.
I got back to my feet,
how shall,
or shalt not,
we,
slay this infernal,
beast?
I ran again,
I ran,
I ran,
My heart,
held out,
for this final,
plan.
Of which I knew,
of nothing more,
than to get,
to that bloody door!
I jumped the gate,
oh I hate that gate,
for from,
the tree of knowledge,
I had ate.
As I got to the porch,
and there she stood,
the most beautiful lady,
ever overlooked.
"Hand me the sword,"
is what she said,
her two soles,
upon the threshold,
spread.
This final plan,
it must be hers,
for C.J. Dennis,
knew of this curse.
I held the blade,
and upon her grasp,
she thrust Excalibur,
deep into my heart.
I fell to my knees,
and then to the floor.
I saw her tears,
whilst stood at the door.
I cried out...Christie!
Why?
Oh, why?
For long and deep,
I did strive.
There was not a word,
spoken from her.
But I knew,
deep inside,
for what she saw,
and short of sight.
I rolled my head,
as I died,
to see Baphomet,
grinning,
his usual delight.
I turned to my side,
as I awoke,
in bed and all alone,
and there I chocked.
It was just another,
dream and again,
I'm all alone.
Still alive,
but just,
an ordinary bloke.[/size]
https://www.androcies.com/Prose/Laura%2 ... Three.html
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 12:58 pm
Like I said, I deleted it (from their Facebook group) - this was b4 I met them, and they did not ask me to clarify Y.
Y not, who cares? We are just usernames.Maia wrote: Poetry is something of a solitary vice, for me, I think, and I would never dare share some of the embarrassing stuff I've come out with over the years.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 1:57 pm
Maybe. I'll consider it.attofishpi wrote: ↑Sun Jun 04, 2023 12:58 pmLike I said, I deleted it (from their Facebook group) - this was b4 I met them, and they did not ask me to clarify Y.
Y not, who cares? We are just usernames.Maia wrote: Poetry is something of a solitary vice, for me, I think, and I would never dare share some of the embarrassing stuff I've come out with over the years.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 6:39 pm
I once wrote a poem about an adventure I had way back when I was young and impetuous:
Sunken stones in an ancient wood
mark out where once a dwelling stood.
And here I set out my strange tale
of the quest to find my holy grail.
Within a ring of giant oaks
once stood a house where darkness cloaks
the ground where only toadstools grow,
and forest creatures will not go.
They say an artful witch lived there,
who hid a formula somewhere
among the ruins of that site,
that place where even day is night.
I heard the story of that place
and went in search to find a trace
of that old secret that was hidden.
To eyes of mortal man forbidden.
I fought through thicket, thorn and bush,
forever onward did I push.
Driven by my blind ambition
to find the witch’s weird prescription.
Suddenly my way was barred
by a ring of trees, all standing guard,
and within my breast my heart did race
from fear of that infernal place.
Yet, on I went into the clearing,
forcing back my dread and fearing
of punishment those trees might wreak.
Forbidden game of hide-and-seek.
Then heaving out a desperate groan
from heaving up a massive stone;
heart thumping wildly in my breast,
I saw the object of my quest.
A wooden casket, rotted away,
yet still protecting from decay,
a parchment furled and rolled up tight,
right there, before my wide-eyed sight.
That precious scroll, worth more than gold,
by trembling hands was soon unrolled.
And in my grasp, before my eye,
a recipe for rhubarb pie.
I knelt there on that cold, dank ground,
and from the oaks there came a sound.
A murmur spread from tree to tree,
those accursed oaks were laughing at me.
Sunken stones in an ancient wood
mark out where once a dwelling stood.
And here I set out my strange tale
of the quest to find my holy grail.
Within a ring of giant oaks
once stood a house where darkness cloaks
the ground where only toadstools grow,
and forest creatures will not go.
They say an artful witch lived there,
who hid a formula somewhere
among the ruins of that site,
that place where even day is night.
I heard the story of that place
and went in search to find a trace
of that old secret that was hidden.
To eyes of mortal man forbidden.
I fought through thicket, thorn and bush,
forever onward did I push.
Driven by my blind ambition
to find the witch’s weird prescription.
Suddenly my way was barred
by a ring of trees, all standing guard,
and within my breast my heart did race
from fear of that infernal place.
Yet, on I went into the clearing,
forcing back my dread and fearing
of punishment those trees might wreak.
Forbidden game of hide-and-seek.
Then heaving out a desperate groan
from heaving up a massive stone;
heart thumping wildly in my breast,
I saw the object of my quest.
A wooden casket, rotted away,
yet still protecting from decay,
a parchment furled and rolled up tight,
right there, before my wide-eyed sight.
That precious scroll, worth more than gold,
by trembling hands was soon unrolled.
And in my grasp, before my eye,
a recipe for rhubarb pie.
I knelt there on that cold, dank ground,
and from the oaks there came a sound.
A murmur spread from tree to tree,
those accursed oaks were laughing at me.
Re: Poetry corner
Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2023 6:56 pm
Here's one from my just published book. Oh, wait! I haven't posted the link to my book in this thread yet! I guess I could use this opportunity to promote it as well! 
Title: The Light, the Heavy, and the Dark: The Collected Poetry of Gary Robert Childress
https://www.amazon.com/Light-Heavy-Dark ... C88&sr=8-1
Pecked On
Growing up I had many nervous habits
Perhaps they were more of a disorder
It hurt my status
For many years
Among my peers
And put me at the bottom
of the pecking order
But despite feeling profoundly sad
From all the pecking that I had had
To deal with
I myself acted just as bad
Toward others I encountered
So being just the same
I don’t hold others to blame
Or feel resentful
For all the hurt
That I felt
Rather as I see it
Justice was served
I got what I deserved
But it’s over
And these days I’m doing well
Title: The Light, the Heavy, and the Dark: The Collected Poetry of Gary Robert Childress
https://www.amazon.com/Light-Heavy-Dark ... C88&sr=8-1
Pecked On
Growing up I had many nervous habits
Perhaps they were more of a disorder
It hurt my status
For many years
Among my peers
And put me at the bottom
of the pecking order
But despite feeling profoundly sad
From all the pecking that I had had
To deal with
I myself acted just as bad
Toward others I encountered
So being just the same
I don’t hold others to blame
Or feel resentful
For all the hurt
That I felt
Rather as I see it
Justice was served
I got what I deserved
But it’s over
And these days I’m doing well