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bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

It's almost too difficult to read her work. Such an anguished, tortured soul.
I wonder what became of Amy Louise Kerswell?
Thanks for your contribution, OldChap.
Please visit again to share poems and your perceptive side with an appreciative audience.

P.S.
No mistakin'
Not fakin'
Love bacon
wink
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[Feb 5, 2013 2:21:48 AM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
David Autumns
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Don't mean to trample I just thought I would share this

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/9855...-only-a-poem-will-do.html


"it is that poetry is a special kind of communication, liable to produce the most powerful reaction. The critic and poet Samuel Johnson described poetic language as that “which calls new power into being, which embodies sentiment and animates matter”. Whether we are coping with the death of a loved one or struggling with unrequited passion, sometimes only a poem will do"
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[Feb 9, 2013 11:11:40 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Trample away, Dave ;)
"Whether we are coping with the death of a loved one or struggling with unrequited passion,
sometimes only a poem will do" --- that says it all...
Great article and thanks for introducing me to veteran poet Brian Turner.
He writes of loss - home, family, limbs, life in a simple, yet powerful way.
Words are the emotional release of his rifle's discharge and the stress of war.


Here, Bullet

If a body is what you want,
then here is bone and gristle and flesh.
Here is the clavicle-snapped wish,
the aorta’s opened valves, the leap
thought makes at the synaptic gap.
Here is the adrenaline rush you crave,
that inexorable flight, that insane puncture
into heat and blood. And I dare you to finish
what you’ve started. Because here, Bullet,
here is where I complete the word you bring
hissing through the air, here is where I moan
the barrel’s cold esophagus, triggering
my tongue’s explosives for the rifling I have
inside of me, each twist of the round
spun deeper, because here, Bullet,
here is where the world ends, every time.

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[Feb 11, 2013 9:22:52 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
NAP2614
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

A Fragment

But, under all, my heart believes the day
Was not diviner over Athens, nor
The West wind sweeter thro' the Cyclades
Than here and now; and from the altar of To-day
The eloquent, quick tongues of flame uprise
As fervid, if not unfaltering as of old,
And life atones with speed and plenitude
For coarser texture. Our poor present will,
Far in the brooding future, make a past
Full of the morning's music still, and starred
With great tears shining on the eyelids' eaves
Of our immortal faces yearning t'wards the sun.



Unknown
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[Feb 13, 2013 8:51:58 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

A Fragment ---
What a lovely poem I glean about resurgence.
It's both timeless and timely for Valentine's Day.
Thank you, NAP2614!

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die,
Life is like a
Broken-winged bird
That cannot fly

Happy Valentine's Day to all!
love struck
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[Edit 1 times, last edit by bjbdbest at Feb 15, 2013 5:35:38 PM]
[Feb 14, 2013 5:38:18 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
yoro42
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Man conforms
_ to the earth
The earth conforms
_ to the sky
The sky conforms
_ to the Way
The Way conforms
_ to it's own nature

______ Lao Tzu
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[Feb 23, 2013 4:48:07 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Thanks, yoro42 for your philosophical contribution :)

Though each of us travels separately
The Way is Life
To find it is to Belong
What more precious "Way"?
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[Feb 23, 2013 10:36:33 PM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
NAP2614
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
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[Feb 24, 2013 2:07:14 AM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
bjbdbest
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Love Shel Silverstein - Bought all his books which I read
with delight to my granddaughter.

Here are some favorites:

“Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?”

“The Little Boy and the Old Man

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
I know what you mean," said the little old man.”

When I am Gone

When I am gone what will you do?
Who will write and draw for you?
Someone smarter—someone new?
Someone better—maybe YOU!
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[Feb 24, 2013 4:14:02 AM]   Link   Report threatening or abusive post: please login first  Go to top 
NAP2614
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Nature — the Gentlest Mother is,
Impatient of no Child —
The feeblest — or the waywardest —
Her Admonition mild —

In Forest — and the Hill —
By Traveller — be heard —
Restraining Rampant Squirrel —
Or too impetuous Bird —

How fair Her Conversation —
A Summer Afternoon —
Her Household — Her Assembly —
And when the Sun go down —

Her Voice among the Aisles
Incite the timid prayer
Of the minutest Cricket —
The most unworthy Flower —

When all the Children sleep —
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light Her lamps —
Then bending from the Sky —

With infinite Affection —
And infiniter Care —
Her Golden finger on Her lip —
Wills Silence — Everywhere —






Emily Dickinson Nature, The Gentlest Mother
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