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5227. justears - 6/7/2004 12:11:20 AM High muddy water
and the trout disappear.
The fisherman gets desperate
caught between the beauty
of mere being and desire
for the old thrill
of strike, capture and release.
5228. wonkers2 - 6/9/2004 10:56:38 AM Poems of Blood and Anger 5229. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 11:39:55 AM Dead tomorrow, possibly,
splashing in puddle,
poking beak amongst feathers,
shaking tail up-and-down;
blackbird is happy.
Dead tomorrow, possibly,
racing through Queen Anne's lace,
laughing at nothing,
touching without worry;
child is happy.
Dead tomorrow, possibly,
watching,
remembering,
smiling;
man is happy. 5230. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 11:47:17 AM Justears, 5226.
I really like this poem. It works for me on two levels, first by provoking memories of last Summer's vacation to Cape Breton Island. Second, it is a superbly concise illustration of ... something I recognize. 5231. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 12:03:02 PM (Working backward)
Macnas...The Samurai haiku is hilarious.
jexster...you are everywhere.
NuPlanetOne...ouch. Also, cigarettes are bad for you.
Here is a true story, Macnas, style:
car smacks errant bike
face smacks windshield hard and bright
buttocks smack asphalt
5232. Macnas - 6/9/2004 5:57:24 PM Ouch. 5233. wonkers2 - 6/10/2004 1:58:08 AM Justears, nice stuff! 5234. Ulgine Barrows - 6/10/2004 4:14:40 PM All of you, call your parents!
You're ridiculously gifted.
Me, I want to sleep.
But not invisibly.
You, too, can have a kid on your knee
This is a funeral! Show some respect. 5235. wonkers2 - 6/11/2004 10:45:33 PM More on the Iraq war;
Jim Brown, a former U.S. marine wrote from a soldier's point of view:
It's only a short dash, from this dusty
wall to that one;
But you try it:
When someone you can't see is
sending hot, cracking
thunderbolts your way,
And you're clutching your young wife's sweat-faded photo so tight,
Your legs don't work proplerly.
Or try to tell the good Iraqis from the
bad ones;
Make a mistake:
The good ones become bad ones, and
you make the evening news.
The answer is to get from this dusty
wall to that one, and get home.
Frank Sandoval thought of children:
A young girl in a pretty dress;
Her first kiss, her dried lips pressed
Into the dirt of a road....
She's now a horrid little carcass,
Flies, tears dried to gelatin in her
eyes,
Hair dirtier than a woman's hair
should ever be.
She's free.
I look now at my little girl,
Blue eyes prettier than a flower,
Laughter more joyous than a bird
song.
My hear swells in my chest and while
I laugh,
I feel fear, smll a faint sench of
insanity.
More here. 5236. wonkers2 - 6/12/2004 7:15:04 AM Bob Dylan Master Poet 5237. Ulgine Barrows - 6/14/2004 4:04:09 PM O my word, what great choices that poet Jim Brown made:
'sending hot, cracking
thunderbolts your way,
......
'Make a mistake:
The good ones become bad ones, and
you make the evening news. '
Frank, I like this:
'horrid little carcass'
Well I don't LIKE it, but then again, I do. I know what I mean.
Link following, another time, wonkers2. The Bob Dylan Master Puppet link looks interesting. 5238. The Summer Woman - 6/15/2004 3:14:30 AM Wonkers2
How much better war can be expressed in poetic images than in prose.
Thank you for posting them. 5239. RickNelson - 6/23/2004 11:10:50 AM Regarding Message # 5234 That's the day!
He's a month early
and his parents sighed relief.
He's small and healthy
and now mom's allowed sleep.
5240. arkymalarky - 6/23/2004 1:03:41 PM CONGRATULATIONS RICK!!!!!
'scuse the yelling. I'm overwhelmed. 5241. Absensia - 6/23/2004 1:09:19 PM RICK! Wonderful news! Much and many good wishes to you and your family. 5242. Ulgine Barrows - 6/24/2004 4:54:37 PM Cool, Rick.
Best of what the world's got to offer, to you and yours. 5243. justears - 6/25/2004 1:25:18 AM As below, so above……the mystic chants
Energy is to Mass
As Spirit is to Matter.
Knock a few Nuclei about and Energy flames out.
Add a few micrograms to the Brain
And watch it become Mind.
Is this a dualism? Or a polarity?
Who gives a shit except
Metaphysicians or monsters?
5244. KuligintheHooligan - 7/3/2004 9:23:06 AM Some interesting poetry from something called "Cootie Shots," a GLSEN sponsored presentation designed to "address acceptance and tolerance of gays in an age-appropriate manner." Children as young as 7 see the presentations.
One skit involves a young boy who likes to dress in his mother's high-heel shoes. Here's the poem:
In Mommy's high heels the world is beautiful,
Let the peasants choke way down below.
I'm standing high above the crowds,
My head is breaking through the clouds.
In Mommy's high heels, I'm ten feet tall!
In Mommy's high heels life's a fantasy;
Every wish I make is a decree!
Let Sissy keep her shrunken heads,
Let Mary walk her dog who's dead.
In Mommy's high heels I have it all!
Here the world is beautiful:
Forests of coat racks and show trees,
A land of hope and shopping sprees!
When I grow up I'll have the cash
To go out and buy a bag to match!
So let them say I'm like a girl!
What's wrong with being like a girl?!
And let them jump and jeer and whirl-
They are swine, I am the pearl!
And let them laugh and let them scream!
They'll be beheaded when I'm queen!
When I rule the world! When I rule the world!
When I rule the world in my mommy's high heals!
"Cootie Shots: Theatrical Inoculations against Bigotry for Kids, Parents, and Teachers" Norma Bowles, ed. (Theatre Communications Group, 2001) 5245. Ulgine Barrows - 7/3/2004 4:06:09 PM KuligintheHooligan, that sounds so much like poetry. Glad to see you here, but it looks like politics.
'Let Sissy keep her shrunken heads,
Let Mary walk her dog who's dead.'
Seriously? That's a cootie shot?
justears, your mystic chants made me laugh. Thank you.
I'm interested in what you were thinking when you wrote it.
I hope I'm not insulting you by finding it hilarious.
'Is this a dualism? Or a polarity? '
Yum.
5246. alistairConnor - 7/4/2004 4:43:59 PM Little wild cherries
(so sweet this year, not always)
stain fingers and chins
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