Lauren Hynde
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- Apr 11, 2002
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I think this might work better than the other ideas we've tried in the past to mention older poems. It's probably easiest for everyone to take the same day that they have for new poems. How many do you want mentioned? 1 or 2?Lauren.Hynde said:Rybka, KillerMuffin, WickedEve, OT, Cordelia, Angeline and everyone else: what do you think of this?
I will include one "old" or "spinner" non-erotic poem with my Sunday posts about the new ones. (I already have found one for tomorrow.) However, I do not have enough time to waste looking for a good erotic poem. They are so few and far between (IMHO).Lauren.Hynde said:I'd thought one of each of the main categories, erotic and non-erotic, but if anyone feels like doing more in any given day, I don't see why not.
I think we can make this work.
Nope! not if we are supposed to do both on the same day. Why should I do two posts when one will do? Why make a reader read two? Others who find a good "spinner" can use that thread, but the day's reviewer should post her/his find in the new poems" thread. - Maybe we need to start a new thread called something like "Poems of the day"? That would encompass both.Lauren.Hynde said:Use the old poems thread for the old poems and the new poems thread for the new poems, please.
Disagree. You have a whole week to find a good "spinner", so it is not a question of time. The meanings are the same, good poems that stand out from the chaff and deserve to be read by others. "New" poems are a first chance for a poem to be read. "Old" or "spinners" are a second chance.Lauren.Hynde said:We're not supposed to do them both in the same day unless we want and feel like we have time to do it.
You can trade with Angeline if you want or have a problem with posting to two different threads in the same day. But I don't think we should merge the two threads. There's space for both and they have different meanings.
...
Buoyant booty once bounced higher.
I swear sugar, I'm not a liar.
Jack it up with girly girdle.
Jiggles jubilantly with each hurdle
an aging ass makes me jump.
Stretchy spandex saves my rump!
they walk side by side
rapidly,
he has had several heart attacks
some surgeries
she has been peaceful and attentive
and, very hold backish
their hands swing like same pendulums
same pendulums swing
sometimes knuckle to knuckle
glancing,
he grabs her hand
they come up chest high
she looks the other way as he
talks about their house
she looks at the muddy spring field
A thin pencil line
drawn down the page
curving, sliding.
Smooth hand moves
to shade and tone
adding flesh.
Never watching
the lines develop,
enfolding the image.
Eye wide intent
on the shadow form
beyond the living.
Silent and patient,
my eyes as calm
as his are blank.
Which reflection
of me has he drawn
on his page this time?
In particular I am fascinated by the first three lines. They are classic! I wish 03sp had taken them and gone elsewhere with the rest of the poem. It seems a waste to use them in an erotic poem.there is no difference
between rock small
and simple stone to me
unlike my geologist friends
who also know heart
and stance
...
I enjoyed it all also, but the first stanza,Angeline said:glad you mentioned this poem, rybka--i was about to--I enjoyed the whole poem and thought, as i often do with his poems, that it works equally well in the erotic and non categories.
if you change the fourth line, could have been written by Frost or MacLeish (for example) on a good day. (I hope 03sp does not consider that an insult.there is no difference
between rock small
and simple stone to me
unlike my geologist friends
who also know heart
and stance
...
Having worked in the bush with geologists, this poem captured the scene perfectly
Rybka said:I enjoyed it all also, but the first stanza,
if you change the fourth line, could have been written by Frost or MacLeish (for example) on a good day. (I hope 03sp does not consider that an insult.)
It reminds me of Archie's, What Any Lover Learns for instance, if Frost had written it.
What Any Lover Learns
Water is heavy silver over stone.
Water is heavy silver over stone's
Refusal. I does not fall. It fills. It flows
Every crevice, every fault of the stone,
Every hollow. River does not run.
River presses its heavy silver self
Down into stone and stone refuses.
What runs,
Swirling and leaping into sun, is stone's
Refusal of the river, not the river.
Regards, Rybka