Share good ideas and conversation.   Login, Join Us, or Take a Tour!
comment by tacocat
tacocat  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·    ·  parent  ·  post: Pubski: September 20, 2017

Hidden within eight letters,

A history of pain, rejection and disappointment,

And an overt message of joy and appreciation,

And a tacit hope, a prospective optimism and an absolution of self,

Three sounds combined,

Deliver all of this in a commonly understood sentence,

Quietly, simply implying more,

Between two people,

Than any text can convey,

To any remote audience.

The perfect distillation,

A momentarily forgotten yesterday,

A beautiful now,

And the prospect that what was once poison,

Can also be panacea.




lil  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

thx tac

    I told you I don't like poetry.
I know. My argument for poetry is that it's a good place to hide feelings. They'll be safe there.

Unlike us, art of all sorts is patient. It will wait at the station as long as it takes.

tacocat  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

I don't like it as a rule but I like it as an exercise to express myself. I don't claim to understand it but I think I understand its constraints and I sometimes like working within them

I probably like it a lot. There's just so much bad poetry

lil  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

Of course there is.

There's so much bad everything.

And they teach you to hate poetry in high school.

Or love it. It depends on so much.

I wonder what poem mk is memorizing this week.

mk  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

It was supposed to be one per month, but I have Poe's Alone down pat, and started itching for the next.

mike and I had somewhat of a poetry slam in steve's minivan last weekend.

lil  ·  388 days ago  ·  link  ·  

Here's a poem by William Butler Yeats that's full of Celtic imagery. I memorized it long ago, and find it useful on hikes through the woods. It might be a little too lyrical for your tastes, but easy to memorize.

  I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

  When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

  Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

--------------------

but there are many...

steve  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

Minivans bring out the poet in all of us

tacocat  ·  390 days ago  ·  link  ·  

There's so much bad everything. There's so much to hate about the world.

Then Morgan Freeman comes and gives you advise..

LOL.

I'm a douche bag