Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,174
Tristesse said:Well......okay, if you must but make sure you wash your hands afterwards.
Yes ma'am. Nice av, btw. Do you do additions? I have a bob that may need a few repairs.
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Tristesse said:Well......okay, if you must but make sure you wash your hands afterwards.
Tristesse said:Puke!
blowing pretty chunks with a technicolour yawn.
Back-up chip special and colouring the dawn
Recycled brown bag involuntary spill.
Organ recital, personally feeling ill
Do the Jersey yodel or the liquid laugh.
Heave, hawk, spew, honk, sprout or barf.
kiss the can or yawn for the hearing impaired
Get a refund on your lunch or a waste good beer
call the moose and spew snacks then make a visible burp
taste lunch twice , drive the porcelain bus with wyatt erp
make an offer to The Porcelain God or psychadelic spit
whistling beef projectile style or pop a gastric zit
my hmm-hmm!
JCSTREET said:with particular vividness
how dewdrops
kiss their leaves
it is whole and perfect in its nature and cannot be improved upon--it has reached its highest state - at the very pinnacle - the diamond tip
the four-line stanza which follows (after "show me") is another tour de force - slightly less compressed and concentrated but more informative
Carl
tarablackwood22 said:tell me about the moon
old man,
how its light
bounces
off the sea at night.
tell me
how dewdrops
kiss their leaves.
show me.
make me look at the water
and see its salt,
see the reshaping
of the sand.
each time I see the moon
or tell my daughter
about the importance
of water,
or swim on a beach
at sunset,
daybreak,
I will remember you.
give me memories.
Tathagata said:it was tara's ange
Angeline said:Thank you, T! And I read it about three times already, lol. Well, it happens when one reads a lot of poetry.
Tathagata said:Now That's an AV
; )
Will you post the poem and poet or link to the poem if you can when you recommend it? I'd like to read this one, but I don't know where to find it.
JCSTREET said:But I can't find it lol
step up to the plate Tatha
Will you post the poem and poet or link to the poem if you can when you recommend it? I'd like to read this one, but I don't know where to find it.
minsue said:Insane? Yes
Human, too,
but not always real.
Or, more likely,
more real here
than anywhere
Outside,
out in the world,
we are false
Behind the screen
with the safety of anonymity
truth can breathe
And so can I
minsue said:
You always make me grin, echoes.
neonurotic said:thought I had a block and had poet's envy.. Thank U 2
echoes_s said:a writers block?
I have had that this a lot lately, but more because of not wanting to write "black" poems. I have written so many and hate them, but it has to come out somehow and this is the only way I can.
You have written some really awesome poetry lately Neo!
what exactly is poets envy?
Sorry, I have to ask these.
I think, myself, poets envy is when you say...darn, wish I could write like that, but from what I read, everyone seems to have this, so it can't be a bad thing right?
and I sincerely thank you
*hugs*
neonurotic said:Poet's envy, unable to make words mesh--that's what I find most frustrating. I envy those who seem to have endless words and lines, phrases like they've upchucked alphabet soup. Nice visual eh?
follow vomit thread a couple pages back and yeah, yours was a much better visual. I saw one girl throw up tomato soup once and thought she was bleeding and dying, scared me half to death (I was only 14 or 15 at the time )
I've been writing those black ones myself. It's hard to slip into something light and smooth when your thoughts are ugly and best suited to stay in the dark
WickedEve said:Angeline, this poem has a different feel to it than your usual poetry. I like this--a lot. I think you're like me in that you perfect (you do; I try) your poetry before offering it to the world, and other times, like this, you just let your poetry sit down and talk to your readers. This poem is very real.
Angeline said:Your voice sounds the same
and different. Everyone's anger
and regret mixes in a human soup
that's bitter but nourishing. We need
to talk. We need to remember the lives
hidden in the masks. I get so sick
of once upon a time, of actions, years
made palatable in fairy tales, parables,
as if anyone learns anything beyond
getting older. Truth is no more helpful
than lies; pretty ones or those screamed
in pain because there is no other way
to justify rage save screaming like a child
cries, inconsolable when no one answers.
I'm hungry. I'm cold. I need to be held.
What do you do when everyone is gone,
when no mothers are left to hear the crying?
What do you do when even your own arms
are too weak to hold yourself together?
You just live. You just blink and move
forward. There are animals who know this
is nature's way, but they don't read books
or try to breathe the world in poetry. Maybe
that discognition is the greatest gift of all.
Tristesse said:Oh Lhasa! Sing!
my feet will follow
my fingers snap
like yours.
Ah! Lhasa! Play!
my heart will swell
my hands clasp
like yours.
Oh! Lhasa! Sway!
sinuous as a vine
voice of lust
like mine.
Ah! Lhasa! Cry!
and I willl too
breathing in your song
of life and love.
We will sing together
eyes closed in
passion.
Oh! Lhasa! Sing!
You better be planning to submit this!Tristesse said:Oh Lhasa! Sing!
my feet will follow
my fingers snap
like yours.
Ah! Lhasa! Play!
my heart will swell
my hands clasp
like yours.
Oh! Lhasa! Sway!
sinuous as a vine
voice of lust
like mine.
Ah! Lhasa! Cry!
and I willl too
breathing in your song
of life and love.
We will sing together
eyes closed in
passion.
Oh! Lhasa! Sing!