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The New Coffee Room

  1. TNCR
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  3. The poetry thread

The poetry thread

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  • Aqua LetiferA Offline
    Aqua LetiferA Offline
    Aqua Letifer
    wrote on last edited by
    #94

    Screenshot 2024-02-08 at 8.46.44 PM.png

    by Malcolm Guite

    Please love yourself.

    1 Reply Last reply
    • MikM Offline
      MikM Offline
      Mik
      wrote on last edited by
      #95

      ❤️

      “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

      1 Reply Last reply
      • Aqua LetiferA Offline
        Aqua LetiferA Offline
        Aqua Letifer
        wrote on last edited by
        #96

        Another by Malcolm Guite. Very much enjoying his writing.

        He's completed an Arthurian cycle he's hoping to publish in a year or so, and it's fantastic. This one is from his second book of poetry.

        screenshot_2024_02_14T13_07_29-0500.png

        Please love yourself.

        MikM 1 Reply Last reply
        • Aqua LetiferA Aqua Letifer

          Another by Malcolm Guite. Very much enjoying his writing.

          He's completed an Arthurian cycle he's hoping to publish in a year or so, and it's fantastic. This one is from his second book of poetry.

          screenshot_2024_02_14T13_07_29-0500.png

          MikM Offline
          MikM Offline
          Mik
          wrote on last edited by
          #97

          @Aqua-Letifer 👏

          “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

          1 Reply Last reply
          • MikM Offline
            MikM Offline
            Mik
            wrote on last edited by
            #98

            By Michael Johnson

            IMG_4205.jpeg

            “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

            1 Reply Last reply
            • Aqua LetiferA Offline
              Aqua LetiferA Offline
              Aqua Letifer
              wrote on last edited by Aqua Letifer
              #99

              False promises

              Though clowns and blasphemers alike proclaim
              Machines can hide the weakness of their words,
              No heretic has ever cured the lame
              And software can’t make diamonds out of turds.

              —written by me, just now, because I felt like it.

              Please love yourself.

              1 Reply Last reply
              • MikM Offline
                MikM Offline
                Mik
                wrote on last edited by
                #100

                Love it.

                “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

                1 Reply Last reply
                • taiwan_girlT Offline
                  taiwan_girlT Offline
                  taiwan_girl
                  wrote on last edited by
                  #101

                  @Aqua-Letifer , you are quite talented.

                  1 Reply Last reply
                  • MikM Offline
                    MikM Offline
                    Mik
                    wrote on last edited by
                    #102

                    Death asked me to join him for dinner
                    so I slipped into my favorite black dress
                    that I had been saving for a special occasion
                    and let him walk me to our candlelit tryst.
                    He ordered a ribeye, extra rare
                    I ordered two desserts and red wine
                    and then I sipped
                    and wondered
                    why he looked so familiar
                    and smelled like earth and memory.
                    He felt like a place both faraway
                    and deep within my body
                    A place that whispers to me
                    on the crisp autumn breeze
                    along the liminal edges of dusk and dawn
                    somewhere between dancing
                    and stillness.
                    He looked at me
                    with the endless night sky in his eyes
                    and asked
                    ‘Did you live your life, my love?’
                    As I swirled my wine in its glass
                    I wondered If I understood the thread I wove into the greater fabric
                    If I loved in a way that was deep and freeing
                    If I let pain and grief carve me into something more grateful
                    If I made enough space to be in awe that flowers exist
                    and take the time to watch the honeybees
                    drink their sweet nectar
                    I wondered what the riddles of regret and longing
                    had taught me
                    and if I realized just how
                    beautiful and insignificant and monstrous and small we are
                    for the brief moment that we are here
                    before we all melt back down
                    into ancestors of the land.
                    Death watched me lick buttercream from my fingers
                    As he leaned in close and said
                    ‘My darling, it’s time.’
                    So I slipped my hand into his
                    as he slowly walked me home.
                    I took a deep breath as he leaned in close
                    for the long kiss goodnight
                    and I felt a soft laugh leave my lips
                    as his mouth met mine
                    because I never could resist a man
                    with the lust for my soul in his eyes
                    and a kiss that makes my heart stop.

                    ~ Gina Puorro: www.ginapuorro.com

                    Author's note: A playful love poem to Death, because I want to remember to relate to it as a part of life, and in ways that exist outside of violence and brutality.

                    “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

                    1 Reply Last reply
                    • Aqua LetiferA Offline
                      Aqua LetiferA Offline
                      Aqua Letifer
                      wrote on last edited by Aqua Letifer
                      #103

                      @Mik Not really my thing but I applaud the effort and I like the idea. 👏

                      It's National Poetry Month and I don't care. Because for me every month is National Poetry Month. 😄

                      I started doing this thing. I had a different idea for buying the book, but, well, now I'm doing this.

                      Blackout poetry (sometimes called found poetry) is taking an existing text and hacking it up with a sharpie so that the extant words create a poem. Some folks go further by clipping out the words so they can be rearranged, but that's too far for me. I like the added constraint of working within the order the words were in originally.

                      Anyway, I bought a reprinted first edition of Alice in Wonderland and I'm making one long, continuous blackout poem with the book. I get through about a page a day.

                      IMG_1711.jpg

                      IMG_1712.jpg

                      Please love yourself.

                      1 Reply Last reply
                      • MikM Offline
                        MikM Offline
                        Mik
                        wrote on last edited by
                        #104

                        That’s an interesting approach. I’ll perhaps take a crack at it.

                        “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

                        Aqua LetiferA 1 Reply Last reply
                        • MikM Mik

                          That’s an interesting approach. I’ll perhaps take a crack at it.

                          Aqua LetiferA Offline
                          Aqua LetiferA Offline
                          Aqua Letifer
                          wrote on last edited by
                          #105

                          @Mik said in The poetry thread:

                          That’s an interesting approach. I’ll perhaps take a crack at it.

                          You should! It's fun and really accessible.

                          The only trick to it is it's more of a listening exercise than a writing one. Gotta recognize what kind of things the text suggests to you.

                          I find it's more successful the more fun you have with it.

                          Those weird Life magazine special issues on Elvis's ghost and haunted cities make for great material. I actually buy the stuff in the checkout lane now.

                          Please love yourself.

                          1 Reply Last reply
                          • Doctor PhibesD Offline
                            Doctor PhibesD Offline
                            Doctor Phibes
                            wrote on last edited by
                            #106

                            Not really a poem, but I came across this on iTunes for my drive to work, and thought it was wonderful...

                            Link to video

                            I was only joking

                            1 Reply Last reply
                            • jon-nycJ Offline
                              jon-nycJ Offline
                              jon-nyc
                              wrote on last edited by jon-nyc
                              #107

                              The night was dark, the moon was high
                              We were alone, just she and I
                              Her hair was soft, her eyes were blue
                              I just knew what I had to do.
                              I placed my hand upon her breast
                              I did it well, I did my best
                              I felt the thumping of my heart, as slowly her legs spread apart
                              It’s over with, it’s done now
                              My first experience, milking a cow.

                              Only non-witches get due process.

                              • Cotton Mather, Salem Massachusetts, 1692
                              1 Reply Last reply
                              • MikM Offline
                                MikM Offline
                                Mik
                                wrote on last edited by
                                #108

                                IMG_4322.jpeg

                                “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” ~Winston S. Churchill

                                1 Reply Last reply
                                • Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                  Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                  Aqua Letifer
                                  wrote on last edited by
                                  #109

                                  👏

                                  Please love yourself.

                                  1 Reply Last reply
                                  • George KG Offline
                                    George KG Offline
                                    George K
                                    wrote on last edited by
                                    #110

                                    IMG_0316.jpeg

                                    "Now look here, you Baltic gas passer... " - Mik, 6/14/08

                                    The saying, "Lite is just one damn thing after another," is a gross understatement. The damn things overlap.

                                    Aqua LetiferA 1 Reply Last reply
                                    • George KG George K

                                      IMG_0316.jpeg

                                      Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                      Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                      Aqua Letifer
                                      wrote on last edited by
                                      #111

                                      @George-K said in The poetry thread:

                                      IMG_0316.jpeg

                                      Why did they choose Emily Dickinson I wonder? Lots of poets used that meter at the time, it was very common.

                                      And it came from music.The meter came from music. It's not a coincidence, there's a direct and intentional connection.

                                      Please love yourself.

                                      1 Reply Last reply
                                      • Doctor PhibesD Offline
                                        Doctor PhibesD Offline
                                        Doctor Phibes
                                        wrote on last edited by Doctor Phibes
                                        #112

                                        A favourite from my childhood...

                                        Matilda, Who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death (1907)

                                        Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
                                        It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;

                                        Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
                                        Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
                                        Attempted to Believe Matilda:
                                        The effort very nearly killed her,
                                        And would have done so, had not She
                                        Discovered this Infirmity.

                                        For once, towards the Close of Day,
                                        Matilda, growing tired of play,
                                        And finding she was left alone,
                                        Went tiptoe to the Telephone
                                        And summoned the Immediate Aid
                                        Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.

                                        Within an hour the Gallant Band
                                        Were pouring in on every hand,
                                        From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow
                                        With Courage high and Hearts a-glow
                                        They galloped, roaring through the Town
                                        'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
                                        Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
                                        Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
                                        They ran their ladders through a score
                                        Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
                                        And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
                                        The Pictures up and down the House,
                                        Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
                                        In showing them they were not needed;
                                        And even then she had to pay
                                        To get the Men to go away!

                                        It happened that a few Weeks later
                                        Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
                                        To see that Interesting Play
                                        The Second Mrs Tanqueray.
                                        She had refused to take her Niece
                                        To hear this Entertaining Piece:
                                        A Deprivation Just and Wise
                                        To Punish her for Telling Lies.

                                        That Night a Fire did break out-
                                        You should have heard Matilda Shout!
                                        You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
                                        And throw the window up and call
                                        To People passing in the Street-
                                        (The rapidly increasing Heat
                                        Encouraging her to obtain
                                        Their confidence)-but all in vain!
                                        For every time She shouted 'Fire!'
                                        They only answered 'Little Liar'!
                                        And therefore when her Aunt returned,
                                        Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

                                        I was only joking

                                        Aqua LetiferA 1 Reply Last reply
                                        • Doctor PhibesD Doctor Phibes

                                          A favourite from my childhood...

                                          Matilda, Who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death (1907)

                                          Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
                                          It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;

                                          Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
                                          Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
                                          Attempted to Believe Matilda:
                                          The effort very nearly killed her,
                                          And would have done so, had not She
                                          Discovered this Infirmity.

                                          For once, towards the Close of Day,
                                          Matilda, growing tired of play,
                                          And finding she was left alone,
                                          Went tiptoe to the Telephone
                                          And summoned the Immediate Aid
                                          Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.

                                          Within an hour the Gallant Band
                                          Were pouring in on every hand,
                                          From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow
                                          With Courage high and Hearts a-glow
                                          They galloped, roaring through the Town
                                          'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
                                          Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
                                          Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
                                          They ran their ladders through a score
                                          Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
                                          And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
                                          The Pictures up and down the House,
                                          Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
                                          In showing them they were not needed;
                                          And even then she had to pay
                                          To get the Men to go away!

                                          It happened that a few Weeks later
                                          Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
                                          To see that Interesting Play
                                          The Second Mrs Tanqueray.
                                          She had refused to take her Niece
                                          To hear this Entertaining Piece:
                                          A Deprivation Just and Wise
                                          To Punish her for Telling Lies.

                                          That Night a Fire did break out-
                                          You should have heard Matilda Shout!
                                          You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
                                          And throw the window up and call
                                          To People passing in the Street-
                                          (The rapidly increasing Heat
                                          Encouraging her to obtain
                                          Their confidence)-but all in vain!
                                          For every time She shouted 'Fire!'
                                          They only answered 'Little Liar'!
                                          And therefore when her Aunt returned,
                                          Matilda, and the House, were Burned.

                                          Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                          Aqua LetiferA Offline
                                          Aqua Letifer
                                          wrote on last edited by
                                          #113

                                          @Doctor-Phibes said in The poetry thread:

                                          A favourite from my childhood...

                                          Matilda, Who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death (1907)

                                          Classic. Always loved that one, too.

                                          Please love yourself.

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