Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,174
As the author of the zen poem, B, you of all people should not be critical of concise poetry.
Y? O. I c.
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As the author of the zen poem, B, you of all people should not be critical of concise poetry.
HomerPindar said:I love this idea, and at a point where I'm not sick, working on finals or sitting with a line of people to use the computer lab, I'll jump in...
but one small note I think history should not forget, and most certainly us poets should not forget, is that Michalangelo was in fact a poet, and non too shabby at it either. He never published in his lifetime, but he prefered to write poetry to his friends rather than a personal letter. Granted, his other works far out did his poetry, but at least one professor here insist that you cannot fully get Michalangelo's work without also knowing his poetry.
HomerPindar
a
too
poet
?
Rantperks said:heh, you like that play on words, admit it.
champagne1982 said:from the thread the perks' claws
Rant
what's the fucking point?
hate me
that's fine
everyone
submit
like a million fucking
angst ridden poets
hate me?
what's the fucking point?
hate me?
that's fine.
fucking angst ridden poets.
what's the fucking point?
Angeline said:fine point.
that's hate
me poets.
Icingsugar said:Honky Tonk Woman
I met a gin soaked, bar-room queen in memphis,
She tried to take me upstairs for a ride.
She had to heave me right across her shoulder
’cause I just can’t seem to drink you off my mind.
It’s the honky tonk women
Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues.
I laid a divorcee in new york city,
I had to put up some kind of a fight.
The lady then she covered me with roses,
She blew my nose and then she blew my mind.
It’s the honky tonk women
Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues.
Gimmie New York City,
a gin soaked bar,
some kind of a shoulder,
I can't just drink.
It's the ride,
the fight,
my Memphis mind.
The roses you
covered me with
blew across her room.
She, the lady blues...
Take me upstairs,
put me right,
cause my mind to heave,
gimmie,
gimmie,
gimmie...
Then,
gimmie the blues
for a divorcee queen.
Angeline said:Gimme gin
gimmie new york city
a drink
a shoulder
you
then take me
upstairs
the room
covered
with roses
blues me
heave
just ride
gimmie
you
Gin
a New York minute
a double decker
you
upstairs
riding high
now.