Another challenge?

[champagne1982]

and so the voice of poets gone lives on; thankyou for writing this, champers, and for linking to angeline's wonderful write. in yours, i especially like the part in bold - it has such a feel within my mouth as i speak the words, as if i could breathe those images and they would hang there, in front of my eyes, embodied by gas and moisture and your creativity. <snip>

Thank you, my dear. I still remember your display name from editred, you know and had a feeling a reference to our Sol may resonate. I was describing an ECG strip in that first strophe. I belong to a group on facebook of heart valve implantees and patients and this week, I was confronted with my memories and fears all over again when one of our number passed, just before his one year valversary. So, I'm glad the poem works and that you find that portion of the verse especially appealing since it was geared to you.

 

[butters]

Thank you, my dear. I still remember your display name from editred, you know and had a feeling a reference to our Sol may resonate. I was describing an ECG strip in that first strophe. I belong to a group on facebook of heart valve implantees and patients and this week, I was confronted with my memories and fears all over again when one of our number passed, just before his one year valversary. So, I'm glad the poem works and that you find that portion of the verse especially appealing since it was geared to you.

so sorry for the revival of difficult things for you

as to the rest,, i am gobsmacked,and honoured. people on here never fail to amaze me...

 

[Angeline]

The last line is a gift from smithpeter via Angeline, thus the echo's impression (also lifted from the same poem) of a friendly haunting from a friend. Angie's poetic voice

Echo's Impression

When this heart beat that mystic measure
the peaks and valleys drew the line
pasted, punctuated with those incidents
of remarkable significance within the space
of a strip of paper, as narrow as a sliver of light
that shines between the horizontal
shadows of the blind and longer
than the time it takes to travel to the end.

The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centred your sight on zero
together we pondered that notion
to begin and answer this demand
coincidentally and somehow smiling,
invent a number for not quite yet.

Ahhhh. I didn't know if anyone noticed that poem and the sp connection.

This:

The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centred your sight on zero

!!!

"numerical/miracle" = clever, talented poet

 

[greenmountaineer]

No. 9 Coal

the goldenrod have turnt burnt orange
choke cherries crowd the tiny path
rent by misspent webs spun
by spiders of intent

1201 "a walk on the path"

Ten more buckeyes fell yesterday,
and I swear it feels like October
on Black Mountain in Kentucky
no matter what the calendar says.
Today is August 14th deranged.
The goldenrod have turnt burnt orange.

Another red maple, leafless as
a stick figure might as well pray
to a photograph of the sun,
yellow cum brown as that swallow is
swooping down through dust that covers
remains which, once choke cherries,

crowd the tiny path with ash
by which I choke and spit out the taste
of palpable waste;
a rainbow trout lies belly up
surrounded by slurry on a pond,
rent by misspent webs spun

exalting collieries on the mountain
that make this forest their parlor,
"the prettiest parlour you ever did spy,"
billows another backloader lie
from industrial spinnerets
woven by spiders of intent.

 

[butters]

i swear, gm, that is stunning.


back with a more coherent response later. still blown away

 

[butters]

beyond this challenge...

would people like a thread dedicated to doing this, to be added to at whim?

 

[HarryHill]

would people like a thread dedicated to doing this, to be added to at whim?

..
Keep this one, just edit the first post to envision the extended scope of the challenge.

 

[butters]

..
Keep this one, just edit the first post to envision the extended scope of the challenge.

done

 

[champagne1982]

Ahhhh. I didn't know if anyone noticed that poem and the sp connection.

This:

The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centred your sight on zero

!!!

"numerical/miracle" = clever, talented poet

More a happy chance, in truth. Didn't notice it until I wrote it but then of course I was quite proud of my new baby. Works good there, eh?

 

[twelveoone]

No. 9 Coal

the goldenrod have turnt burnt orange
choke cherries crowd the tiny path
rent by misspent webs spun
by spiders of intent

1201 "a walk on the path"

Ten more buckeyes fell yesterday,
and I swear it feels like October
on Black Mountain in Kentucky
no matter what the calendar says.
Today is August 14th deranged.
The goldenrod have turnt burnt orange.

Another red maple, leafless as
a stick figure might as well pray
to a photograph of the sun,
yellow cum brown as that swallow is
swooping down through dust that covers
remains which, once choke cherries,

crowd the tiny path with ash
by which I choke and spit out the taste
of palpable rain;
a rainbow trout lies belly up
surrounded by slurry on a pond,
rent by misspent webs spun

exalting collieries on the mountain
that make this forest their parlor,
"the prettiest parlour you ever did spy,"
billows another backloader lie
from industrial spinnerets
woven by spiders of intent.

chokes and gasps
this while being good lines on their own
a rainbow trout lies belly up
surrounded by slurry on a pond,

is priceless in context

really good stuff here, seriously, I would beat the piss out of this

Another red maple, leafless as
a stick figure might as well pray
to a photograph of the sun,

fucking around, ie thinking on the fly

...may as well pray
to a photo of the sun


O black rainbow, consider seven colours ending on the trout?

this forms a nice pattern
burnt orange. red yellow brown
as if it is broken down

with black gives you five
photo of a sepia sun,
All colours warm or neutral so far, nothing cool, impression of wrong and scorched

this is a work to death classic, here.

 

[twelveoone]

The last line is a gift from smithpeter via Angeline, thus the echo's impression (also lifted from the same poem) of a friendly haunting from a friend. Angie's poetic voice

Echo's Impression

When this heart beat that mystic measure
the peaks and valleys drew the line
pasted, punctuated with those incidents
of remarkable significance within the space
of a strip of paper, as narrow as a sliver of light
that shines between the horizontal
shadows of the blind and longer
than the time it takes to travel to the end.

The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centred your sight on zero
together we pondered that notion
to begin and answer this demand
coincidentally and somehow smiling,
invent a number for not quite yet.

you do wonders here, love S1, most of S2, just not sure about the first 3 lines of S2, feels like a stretch

 

[butters]

No. 9 Coal

the goldenrod have turnt burnt orange
choke cherries crowd the tiny path
rent by misspent webs spun
by spiders of intent

1201 "a walk on the path"

Ten more buckeyes fell yesterday,
and I swear it feels like October
on Black Mountain in Kentucky
no matter what the calendar says.
Today is August 14th deranged.
The goldenrod have turnt burnt orange.

Another red maple, leafless as
a stick figure might as well pray
to a photograph of the sun,
yellow cum brown as that swallow is
swooping down through dust that covers
remains which, once choke cherries,

crowd the tiny path with ash
by which I choke and spit out the taste
of palpable rain;
a rainbow trout lies belly up
surrounded by slurry on a pond,
rent by misspent webs spun

exalting collieries on the mountain
that make this forest their parlor,
"the prettiest parlour you ever did spy,"
billows another backloader lie
from industrial spinnerets
woven by spiders of intent.

everything about this - weighted with the dark, the acrid, the bad taste left in the mouth from being fed backloader lies.

this poem has the colour washed right out of it, leaving it scummy sepia and ashen tones. especially hit by the awful image of the trout: in such a sparing phrase that contrast you hand us, the swapping about of how we expect 'rainbow' to appear and all the sallow, death-like connotations of a fish-belly.

such intelligent, well-crafted writing - i believe 1201's points to be valid, though, and worth considering.

 

[todski28]

just thinking, hasn't this kinda turned into a glossa?

*Hungry Jack* by Angeline

"He would rather be a lizard
on a rock
drinking up heat"

*Winter picking*

Days were turmoil
teasing taunts from
evil Rottweilers that
had bones between
their teeth

nights were black
frozen chattering mist
filled air, human
blankets
potting mix bed
rake and pitchfork
lurk maliciously
waiting to stab
in the dark

4am garden hose
water so cold it
burns lava burns
crying, dying inside
he would rather be a lizard
on a rock
drinking up heat

 

[Setanta84]

Removed.