COVID-19 RESOURCES
LIT CAMS (200 Free Tokens)ADULT TOYSVOD MOVIES

Tihmmnmmish's Cuddle-Friendly Fireside Threadcast

Difference
by miss trust invites multiple reads and thoughts for an evening fireside mull.

Then we have a death poem and an incest poem. Concepts a bit too heavy for this reviewer for now, but well-written.

And finally, Orasmic Delights by LushDiva, might tend to wordings that might put off readers who have read them countless times, but there's an indefinable honesty to the poem that somehow forgives these usages. On second look, a fast-paced energy manages to support the title quite well.

I'll fix these up in the Real Review Thread sometime today or this evening. Might or might not edit them.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
oxfordattic said:
I've never been published, but thank you very much for the compliments. I decided to post them because it's hard to write with little feedback, as all my friends are spineless yes men. I'll keep em' coming if people are reading, which i see they are, i have a few stacks of them. I still write daily, so I'll try to keep it recent. Thanks again for the positive feedback.
Click to expand...

One man's Game is quite swell too. First stanza is a grabber. It moves.
 
mushrooms with pretty caps? :D
Nawp. :( 'fraid not.

Not too many people ever asked me what I think about anything. Nerves. Excited. Much stuff penned up seeing this space, want to all spill at once.

The O-fficial New Poems Review will appear in its proper place in due time, tonight (at least tonight rocky mountain time). And it'll be purdy.

Got some stuff going, doing, can't focus. Want to... Lots of really nice work today. Again, if I would go and look around for these high-falutin literary zines... hell, plenty of this stuff today... easy. Maybe someone with more academic background would see things different. But... ah, I love abusing ellipses... ha...

Annie, also, though I'm stiff confused about them terza-things. really nice work about the knight.

Be back in a bit.
 
Did you know that purdee is the pakistani would for c*nt?

Thankyou about the Knight ... I know him well in fact well enough to iron his bloody regalia!!
 
:rose:hugs and love and sympathies for SB.:rose:
 
Last edited by a moderator:
mushrooming for souls - lost souls, found souls, up and down souls
physical comfort by a fireside - command the heat of touch to drench a heart in pain
words and visions insufficient - instincts tearing self apart as much as loss of hope
love the bricks and mortar - enough and then some, to build you back up
you have but to accept - forgive for something unforgivable, peace is there with pain

not trying to derail a thread, just wanting to voice concern, caring, you know - that stuff, the hard stuff that's so easy. Never give it to yourself but always have an overabundance for others. Sincerity bridges lack of familiarity, one hopes anyway. The human organism trying to cuddle round the fire - toast a marshmallow, tell a story, huddle under a blanket and find community. Speak what matters and make it original but everyone's already thinking that particular thought - strength in numbers, then.

Be well, SB.
Be well, all who have lost.
 
miss_trust said:
mushrooming for souls - lost souls, found souls, up and down souls
physical comfort by a fireside - command the heat of touch to drench a heart in pain
words and visions insufficient - instincts tearing self apart as much as loss of hope
love the bricks and mortar - enough and then some, to build you back up
you have but to accept - forgive for something unforgivable, peace is there with pain

not trying to derail a thread, just wanting to voice concern, caring, you know - that stuff, the hard stuff that's so easy. Never give it to yourself but always have an overabundance for others. Sincerity bridges lack of familiarity, one hopes anyway. The human organism trying to cuddle round the fire - toast a marshmallow, tell a story, huddle under a blanket and find community. Speak what matters and make it original but everyone's already thinking that particular thought - strength in numbers, then.

Be well, SB.
Be well, all who have lost.
Click to expand...

a festival of cuddles through and through
 
So a limerick already poked its nose out. Been a lot of poetry lately. Like a swarm of poems. Killer poems. Some that sting, some that bite, some whose stings and bites make good pain. Hm, make good pain. Something in that, huh? Make good pain. you make great pain. Someone should use that, for something good, not to hurt anyone, maybe a love poem.

Isms. See, I screwed up. Always screwing up. Fucking up. Mr. Fuckup, that's me, an ingrained something... Some souls can handle certain ways and other ways are less handleable. Some can carry around books that explain the mushrooms and birds and flowers. But some of us should keep away from those things, because it... because... you know, you sink even deeper into hypocrisy. And the deeper you go there, the harder it is to come back to the real good stuff. And doing it for the best reasons.

Wow, that's just happy.

Sorry. Ahhh, go to bed. yeah, go to bed, get it together. Forget the Isms. Forgive the Ism classifiers too. They meant well. I hope. We just can't mingle. A wave across the street is as much space as we should probably allow. I just can't handle all the Isms. Just can't.
 
Ah! And another bright and blessed morn. No poems yet. Been a bunch of late.
By the way, to cut through a lot of what I had meant to lead up to, being appointed the Friday Poetry Reviewer created and still creates mixed feelings. Part of me hesitates a lot; actually a lot of me hesitates a lot for a lot of reasons. But other parts really get into the joy of the journey. For other reasons.

On the one hand, as if it isn't obvious, I have no real formal or academic background that would lend an ounce of qualification to tell anyone whether they wrote a good poem or a crappy poem. I'm the mushroom hunter who leaves the book behind, but who also loves all the different mushrooms for their own attributes.

I also inherited a knack for criticism from my dad. But I try to avoid that tendency because I know how it can affect the sensitive when it is applied without regard for the possibility of encouragement to improve, and have fun doing it. I mean, you could present the most beautiful work of poetry but if there's one little flaw, that's what he'd point out first and foremost, and make you feel like a worm for missing it, for not attending to it. So I do block out that influence, or try to, when it comes to telling someone else I don't know if I thought they wrote a good poem or a crappy poem. Or anything. Because I know how it feels. And it becomes really difficult to completely escape the two responses, neither of them beneficial to anyone: one is certainty of failure no matter what you do, how hard you try, so you tend to get a Why Bother attitude. At the other end is angry determination to prove the critic wrong. I personally recommend neither. But they're hard to shake off. Sometimes you think you've broke free and life's beautiful but they're never far away.

So that's why I'd rather not be too critical of someone's poetry. If I knew the poet knew that my critical eye would lead to encouragement and fun, and had their permission so to speak... but I would still proceed with caution.

Well I feel better for getting that out. For what it's worth.
 
When I first came here and was still in the 'everything must rhyme' mode it was Angeline and others that coaxed me to try free verse (and other harder forms!) it was like going back to school but for that I thank them.
 
I think we're two who can attest to the beauty of those who can exhort and prod and encourage and teach, giving you/us confidence that we can. That's rare.

Guess we have no poetry today?

Hope they didn't get scared off.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
Think mine is still pending I will have to check I am sorry it missed you!
Click to expand...

Well Annie. That's the way the meter maid sashays. But, y'know the primary purpose for this thread (which as usual, I took down a lost course quite quick), was something of an unofficial sideline front porch fireside something that would maintain an unofficial super casual commentary on poems and poetry as they popped up.

So there's no reason we couldn't have our own little review session here. ;)

But the morning is here and The Feel feels near, finally. Been a couple weeks. But we can't have it all the time can we? But yeah boy, I think it's just outside. Think a short stroll out there, we'll meet up and mate and it might end up a great day to spew verbiage and mind not whither the fates take or do.

Ahhhhh.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
There is nothing like a good feel
Click to expand...
Nothing like it.
See, today I'm not bummed in any way. Not the Yankee downer way nor the england english 'that' way. Just rolling in The Feel today. No idea why. Nothing circumstantial is different. No idea. The inner situation switched around, like overnight; went from Everything Sucks to Everything Feels Wonderful.

????

Be back later.
 
Another Lit-free-poetry-Friday? A bundle-up-first-snow-on-the-ground-silent morning? A multiple-black-cup-black-Friday vigil? Time. Time, it will tell, though time is just another made up concept, but so are so many things beautiful and challenging, though challenging is an inadequate word. Now that'll bug me. The Feel is not far, and it could very well be imminent. The Feel is taking shape, appearing prosily sinuous, at least for now.

Check back.

Oh yeah, The Feel jumped another notch of Real when I pecked that last period. And this one. Yeah
 
UnderYourSpell said:
Time is to stop everything happening at once
Click to expand...

I could seldom ever successfully adjust to the pace of the pacesetters, and I too often feel uncomfortable that I'm being forced to go through life much faster than I really want to or feel is good. But it becomes habitual, and though I say mentally, hey! slow down! Savor the moments, my system does not want to obey. I think that might explain a few things, not that it really matters but it does feel good to put it down. I always preferred to mosey the back roads, but it's hard to even find a back road anymore; seems it's all fast lanes, the volume cranked and high on the treble.
 
Come to England we have still got plenty of backroads with green hedges, pheasants sitting in the middle of the road and horses putting their noses over the fence to say hello.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
Come to England we have still got plenty of backroads with green hedges, pheasants sitting in the middle of the road and horses putting their noses over the fence to say hello.
Click to expand...

You just painted a beautiful picture. :rose:
 
Actually the real world pace in this place is pretty darn casual. I've been in few places that offered the direct raw contact with the natural world than here. I was just thinking about this the other day. I mean, I just love love love certain aspects of this place, but in others we just are not a happy match. It's hard to know what to do sometimes. You know, you get into ruts, habits.
 
I like my rut and having been flung unceremoniously out of it on ocassions I know how comfortable it is to be able to get back into it. Wallow in it's sameness, I did all my fast lane stuff years ago and although sometimes there are a few things I haven't done that still appeal I won't be rushing too hard or climbing too high out of my rut if I don't have to......... and hey haven't you heard I have already been deemed boring?
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top