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Author: Subject: The All Poetry Topic

True Peach





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  posted on 3/14/2007 at 02:44 PM
Well, this may sound corny - though anyone who has seen my 16-bar blues tribute to the MT thread will know that corny never bothers me - but the Haiku thread has stirred something within me.

Once upon a time, I thought I would like to become a writer. I took classes, participated in some high school and college literary magazines, actually had a commissioned piece appear in the quarterly of an art museum, wrote a few newspaper articles, wrote some short stories, workshopped them with my peers, etc. I had dreams of writing short stories and novels.

So, time goes by, and I'm all grown up. I had steady work, so the bills would be paid (for the most part ), and now it came time to write. I had the skills, or believed I did, but I found that I really didn't have anything to say. I read pulp fiction all the time, and I love it for what it is, another form of entertainment, along with TV, movies, rock and roll, etc. but I never saw myself doing that. In addition to everything mentioned above, I've pretty much always written poetry in various forms.

The Haiku thread has reminded me how much fun it can be as well as how intellectually challenging and emotionally gratifying. And now that I'm a bit older, and hopefully a bit wiser, maybe I do have something to say.

This thread shall be devoted to poetry of all kinds. We'll write our own, share it, discuss it, talk about what we've read, what we like, etc.

I don't want to try an force out "an occasional poem,*" so I have nothing with which to inaugurate this thread. Perhaps I'll do so later, but if somebody else beats me to it and has something he or she would like to share, then by all means, please do so.

Enjoy the thread. I hope we can sustain it.

Peace.


*occasional as in "for an occasion," not "once in a while." For instance, a number of Chaucer's poems (not The Canterbury Tales) were commissioned by various Lords and Ladies for specific events, and are commonly called "occasional" pieces.


 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/14/2007 at 10:57 PM
Okay, I'll break the ice with this one:

Again

I want to dance again;
to become one with the music
and let it carry me across the floor

I want to run and climb and jump again
for no other reason than the joy of feeling
the wind in my face
and the ground beneath my feet

I want my clothes to hug me in the right places
and not bind me in the wrong ones
I want to be able to wear high heels, short skirts
and low cut blouses again - I wouldn't, but I want to

I want to be able to walk into a room again
and hear the sharp intake of breath from at least
one man, for him to want me enough
to make me want him too

I want to be breathless again
at the whisper of my name
to be able to feel......
well, sometimes, just to feel anything

And if I never have any of this again
I want to hold on to my memories as I grow older
Wonderful, carefree, happy, beautiful memories
to carry me weightless across the floor
if I can't ever dance again.

Anathalee


[Edited on 3/15/2007 by bigann]

[Edited on 3/15/2007 by bigann]

 

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Universal Peach



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  posted on 3/14/2007 at 11:07 PM
Damn! That's yours Ann? You talented wench you....


A personal favorite of mine & Renee's I bet!



What A Peach Head Could Be

... by bluboy



could be a mule plow farmer
tilling up his soil,
praying that his plantings
will pay for all the toil.

could be a guitar player
searching for a sound,
that keeps his spirit lifted
away from a hell hound.

could be a mojo man, a stoner,
lookin’ for a bowl
to help heal all his troubles and
sooth his worried soul.

could be a treetop flyer, a
peach- headed proselytizer,
howling out for anything
to dare to take him higher.

could be a juke joint jiver barrelhousing on the stage,
looking like some animal that’s been let out of its cage.

could be a root doctor
and a
herbal healer,
who thinks about some long lost love and wishes he could feel her.

could be a cane pole catfish sofly humming lazy river blues
beside a hardwood campfire in sand-squished barefoot shoes.

could be a midnight mover,
like some humbucking slip n’ slider
filling up his simple dreams with
sweet reneed and Red Rider.


 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/14/2007 at 11:23 PM
Yes, Again is mine...guess since I'm busted, I'll go back and add my name....and I love What A Peach Head Could Be, especially the last line

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 06:12 AM
I'm a poet
didn't know it
but my feet show it




Longfellows ain't they ?

 

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True Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 06:53 AM
I remember when you were born
The sun was shining bright
Though I was feeling tired and worn
You were quite a sight

There's much I'll have to teach you
As you work your way through life
Like letting love and faith reach you
(and finding the perfect wife)

but for now, flash that smile
that makes grandpa jump for joy
You make the journey worthwhile
You're a great little boy

The Grandson---by Mark

Hey, bear with me, it's not even 8 in the morning, I haven't had a drop of coffee yet and that's off the top of my aging head. Just wanted to throw one out there.

 

True Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 11:06 AM
Very cool stuff so far, no doubt. One thing that I always look for in poetry - and this is just me, and just one thing, I look for a number of things - is visual imagery. I like poems, lines, words, etc., that make me see something. Then, I consider if it's something I want to see, or enjoy seeing.

From the work above, I particularly like this:

quote:
could be a cane pole catfish sofly humming lazy river blues
beside a hardwood campfire in sand-squished barefoot shoes.


I also like the way Ann both opens and closes her piece with being carried across the floor. In the first instance we have the physical sense, dancing, and in the second, more of an emotional or spiritual sense, as the memories do the work where the body/bodies or other circumstances become hindrances or will otherwise not allow such activity.

Piacere, I liked your poem, but if I can play the wag for a second, how about expanding upon:

quote:
I haven't had a drop of coffee yet and that's off the top of my aging head


Seems like something you can run with.

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 11:52 AM
Umbrelling herself
like a poorly designed angel
she falls in love, again.
destined for a broken heart,
which is always the way for her.

I'm glad she's not falling in love with me.


[Edited on 3/15/2007 by LinnieXX]

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 11:54 AM
i'm real fond of this one that Derek wrote....

One time I glued some tinsel onto a small pebble,
and hung it in front of a toad on a string.
The toad ate it and then hopped away.
A week later I found the same pebble in my mailbox.
That freaked me out.
I love you.

 

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True Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 02:22 PM
again, off the top of my aging but this time, caffeinated head.

(will run with aforementioned line at a later date, you wag you)

"CCU Blues"

been waitin' on the aged and dyin'
servin' them as best I can
seen families in rage or cryin'
takes it's toll on a man

offerin' comfort, a kind word
to help them through their day
what I've seen and what I've heard
as they slowly fade away

take heart in knowing
that should the time come for you
there's folks like me showing
what a kind gesture will do.

some recover and pass right through
some do not...and pass away
it's all part of the CCU Blues
another life, another day

( I volunteer in the CCU ward at a local hospital. Just wanted to throw that one out there too)





 

Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/15/2007 at 03:45 PM
You have my greatest admiration for being there for those people...and I'm not surprised that you would have beautiful poetry in your beautiful heart.

 

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True Peach



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  posted on 3/16/2007 at 10:36 AM
from you, that's high praise.

thanks.

Here's one, while I'm just foolin' around, a quick little ditty...

Standing tall and all alone
Serving food and drink
Not a friend to call my own
Not one thought to think

I shine the light upon your need
and offer without objection
My constant humm, a sign indeed
spares you any reflection

again and again, each day's the same
I'm there to sustain you and yours
a magnet, a drawing, a memory framed
attached to my sturdy doors.

"The Refrigerator"---by Mark

 

True Peach



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  posted on 3/16/2007 at 10:44 AM
Ann, with heart, comes the willingness to offer and share, to contribute. As you may have gathered from the above post and from some of my recent "offerings" in other threads as well (the Haiku thread, for one) I have recently, at the constant prodding from family and friends, most notably my girlfriend, delved into writing children's books and short stories, where by the way, this man-child fits in quite nicely.
 

Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/16/2007 at 09:00 PM
greetings:


Found in a smile
and shows in the eyes of each
to give and to receive
without speaking a word

Felt in a touch
hand in hand or a whisper
hot..cold...and warm
always seems to move you

Born in the heart
always meant to be shared
void in lonliness
this thing we call LOVE

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/16/2007 at 09:16 PM
Okay, this wasn't really meant to be a poem, but what is a song lyric without music if not a poem until the music is added?

Carry Me Jesus

I've tried to do right and I've tried to be good
I know in my heart I've done all that I could
But I'm weak and defeated and just can't go on
Won't you carry me Jesus 'til I can be strong?

Won't you carry me Jesus until I can stand?
I need to feel the touch of your hand
Your Grace is the only comfort I've known
Won't you carry me Jesus 'til I make it back home?

I've always found shelter safe in your arms
You give me courage in the midst of life's storms
But I've strayed from your teaching down a path that was wrong
Won't you carry me Jesus back to where I belong?

Won't you carry me Jesus until I can stand
I need to feel the touch of your hand
Your Grace is the only comfort I've known
Won't you carry me Jesus 'til I make it back home?

Anathalee

 

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Universal Peach



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  posted on 3/16/2007 at 10:19 PM
This thread was sure overdue.....

 

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True Peach



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  posted on 3/18/2007 at 10:18 AM
quote:
This thread was sure overdue.....


yeah, but....

we're all waiting on the one called "Droogie"
who gave this thread it's start
when the dude gets goin', he can really boogie
with words for the mind and heart

what say you, oh master of pen
have you forsaken our comfortable niche
trusting that you shall grace us again
with words so trusting and rich

as we wait, my words, so hollow
so pale and full of lament
none to feel, none to follow
the message I have sent

(geeze, this sounds like a Hallmark card
so tacky and contrived
like pink flamingo's out in the yard
the BS bus has arrived)



yeah, but I had ya there for a minute, didn't I?

just showin' the author what corny REALLY is.

and not ashamed to post it, either.

ok, I'm out.


 

Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/18/2007 at 02:22 PM
Watch your thoughts, they become words.

Watch your words, they become actions.

Watch your actions, they become habits.

Watch your habits, they become character.

Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.

By D. Lutfiah in Malaysia.

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/18/2007 at 05:02 PM
Wish I'd said that!

 

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Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/19/2007 at 12:28 AM
Angels In New York

Beneath the rubble of two giants
in the smoldering debris
Rest the memories of a lifetime
and too many shattered dreams.
Now there’s only whispered prayers
Where once you heard the screams
But if you listen closely
You can hear the angels’ wings.

There were angels in New York that day
As broken souls were carried home
And those who search for loved ones
Rest safely in their arms.
With angels in New York, the people aren’t alone

In the shadows of the rubble of two giants
Working in the twisted steel
Are ordinary people
With extraordinary will.
They move despair piece by piece
Wondering what it means.
Their prayers for any sign of life
is the sound of angels’ wings.

There are angels in New York today.
We watch them from our homes
And fly flags across the country
From the cities and the farms
For angels in New York to show they aren’t alone.


Anathalee Sandlin 9/16/01

 

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Peach Head



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  posted on 3/19/2007 at 11:41 PM
Hey Red Rider – it is sweet of you to be plugging my “work” here. I’m gonna guess you are a little biased on this one, but thanks just the same!!!

Hey Ann – good gracious, woman, is there anything you don’t do well?!?!?!

Yeah, there are some wordsmiths in the house.

 

True Peach



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  posted on 3/20/2007 at 08:25 AM
traipsing through the streets of the North End
my oyster, my turf, my home
no worry or concern or trouble back then
at least none I'd call my own

stickball, tag or playing "Hunt"
Mr. Jones driveway is out of bounds
"Hey, get outta here, you little runt"
and off we'd laugh and bound

Hot summer days selling lemonade
same customers, our mom's and dad's
we thought nothing of finding shade
or the great life we had

now, so much older with time to reflect
I wonder where they all went
another generation here to connect
one prays it's time well spent

 

True Peach



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  posted on 3/20/2007 at 08:27 AM
I seem to be stuck in, what is it, iambic pentameter?

need new cadence.

will revisit other forms.

 

Zen Peach



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  posted on 3/20/2007 at 08:38 AM
quote:
Watch your thoughts, they become words.

Watch your words, they become actions.

Watch your actions, they become habits.

Watch your habits, they become character.

Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.

By D. Lutfiah in Malaysia.



i have had this taped to my window by my sink for a few years. it is widely credited to Frank Outlaw, no D. Lutfiah, just fyi. Certainly words to live by.




Murdered thoughts
written on pages
in invisible ink
sure to disappear
if you have no backup




 

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Universal Peach



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  posted on 3/20/2007 at 08:40 AM
quote:
Hey Red Rider – it is sweet of you to be plugging my “work” here. I’m gonna guess you are a little biased on this one, but thanks just the same!!!



I am biased but it was the humbucking slip n' slider that put it over the top, using my name only got my attention

 

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