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5537. alistairconnor - 11/23/2005 10:49:44 AM this is not my beautiful house
this is not my beautiful wife 5538. Macnas - 11/23/2005 10:53:07 AM Art imitates life. 5539. Ulgine Barrows - 11/26/2005 10:02:33 AM And it's your face I'm looking for on every street
~Dire Straits 5540. Macnas - 11/28/2005 11:11:31 AM This is by a fellow called Brendan Kennelly, one of our best living poets:
Begin again to the summoning birds
to the sight of light at the window,
begin to the roar of morning traffic
all along Pembroke Road.
Every beginning is a promise
born in light and dying in dark
determination and exaltation of springtime
flowering the way to work.
Begin to the pageant of queuing girls
the arrogant loneliness of swans in the canal
bridges linking the past and future
old friends passing though with us still.
Begin to the loneliness that cannot end
since it perhaps is what makes us begin,
begin to wonder at unknown faces
at crying birds in the sudden rain
at branches stark in the willing sunlight
at seagulls foraging for bread
at couples sharing a sunny secret
alone together while making good.
Though we live in a world that dreams of ending
that always seems about to give in
something that will not acknowledge conclusion
insists that we forever begin.
5541. wonkers2 - 12/1/2005 5:33:28 AM Poems of Baroness Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven. 5542. Ulgine Barrows - 12/1/2005 10:03:48 AM There are angels in your angles
There's a low moon caught in your tangles
There's a ticking at the sill
There's a purr of a pigeon to break the still of day
As on we go drowning
Down we go away
And darling, we go a-drowning
Down we go away
Away
There's a tough word on your crossword
There's a bed bug nipping a finger
There's a swallow, there's a calm
Here's a hand to lay on your open palm today
As on we go drowning
Down we go away
And darling, we go a-drowning
Down we go away
Away
There are angels in your angles
There's a low moon caught in your tangles
~The Decemberists
"Of Angels And Angles" 5543. Ulgine Barrows - 12/3/2005 11:03:13 AM Houdini's Box
The box sits on the bridge
The crowd is waiting
The chains are locked across my chest
There's no heart breaking
I've done this show a thousand times
This trick's so easy
As they lower me into your waters
There's no escaping
There's a secret passage out of here
But I don't want to reappear
I just want to stay with you in here
In Houdini's box
Close the lid
And tie the knot
Houdini's box
The clock ticks by the bed
I hear you breathing
I should be out the door
But I'm not leaving
I've still the scars from my last escape
I nearly drowned beneath the lake
Stayed down too long dreaming about you
In Houdini's box
Close the lid
And tie the knot
Houdini's box
In Houdini's box
Houdini's box
I'd take such good care of you
I'd brush your hair, untie your shoes
There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do
In Houdini's box
In Houdini's box
Seal the lid
And tie the knot
In Houdini's box
Houdini's box
Houdini's box
Houdini's box
Houdini's box
The box sites on the bridge
The crowd's still waiting
~ Jill Sobule 5544. Ulgine Barrows - 12/3/2005 11:28:35 AM Houdini Blues: Kristin Hersh
Oh no, don’t you put me in that box
You know what you can do with those locks
Bet your life I’ll come crawling out again
You’ll have to deal with me then
You’ll hear me on the wind
I’ve been on the other side of the blue ridge
Seen the shenandoah rolling there
I stepped off the mountains edge
Just to climb the golden stair
I seen the streets up there
I been on the mount transfiguration
Been there with my ma and my pa
On the mountain of commandment
I been handed down the law
You should have seen what I saw
I fell to the bottom of thales’ well
Caught like a theif with a lamb
You know these stars they can cast a spell
I’ve been caught with red hands
I’ve been caught with red hands
I scaled the mountains, skiied the valleys
I’ve done the highs and the lows
I don’t feel like work today
Hell I won’t go
Bess I won’t go
Just let me at their locks
We should all be free
Oh bess, I swear I’ll call
When I’m free from me
We should all be free 5545. Ulgine Barrows - 12/3/2005 11:35:01 AM And there we have it: two vastly different opinions on Houdini's infamous box. 5546. Ulgine Barrows - 12/3/2005 11:50:53 AM Guess who wrote this rhyme:
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will 5547. NuPlanetOne - 12/7/2005 3:28:10 AM My Wonderful Dream
Am I missing sunsets
That trail along the sky
I know I miss the dawn
When I sat alone
On the pier
It was a holy time
I had no experience
And no regrets
I just wished
For things
Because there was time
Ahead
And wishing was so grand
The trust in hope
That fierce strength
To make things happen
And even when nothing
I wished for
Came to pass
There was the next dawn
And even as the same
Weary boats
Went out
I believed, for me
It would be different
At some point
I began
To watch the sunset
The colors
Seemed to match
My broken heart
The rusty golds stretched
Like regrets
Across the sky
And the urgency
And my wishes
Hung like the day’s
Nets
Out to dry
And although
I might still
Look up and sit
Quiet at dawn
Or sit looking back
At shore
As the boat takes me out
The wild desire
And painful yearning
As the sun gleams
Over the edge
Is not anymore
A holy thing
But just some other
Fisherman’s
Wonderful dream
5548. Macnas - 12/7/2005 2:24:48 PM Ulgine
I think ACDC would have something to say about you including thier lyrics in a poetry thread. 5549. NuPlanetOne - 12/21/2005 4:55:15 PM Could Be I’m Cuckoo
The irony, of course
Is we all have ideas
Firm convictions
Slants, unconscious ways
Of looking at things
And choices, the voices
We hear in our ear
Sway or betray and
Move the moment
Then we are alone
Back to thinking
Quiet in the truth
Of our real opinion
In the comfort
Of our decisions
Falling asleep
Discussing the changes
As our brain rearranges
The cells and deep
Somewhere, where
We hide our hope
Sanity prevails
It is ironic how crazy
It can feel
I suppose
Losing ones mind
Is the opposite kind
Of feeling
5550. ElliottRW - 12/22/2005 9:03:56 PM Ban sales to kids.
No. Not one word did I omit.
Ban it.
Ban it all.
Do not stop at alchohol, candy, porn, or demeral.
Children crave what we deny.
The time is nigh to simplify.
Ban it all.
Ban sales to kids.
5551. arkymalarky - 12/23/2005 3:33:35 AM HEY ELLIOTT!!!! Provocative poem. I like it! Hope you can stick around and share more. 5552. ElliottRW - 12/27/2005 5:48:30 AM Spod?
I follow my obsession
down a wire
into the void
and out somewhere
where I find the new word,
which, like magic,
pushes my (old) obession back in the inbox.
For a while.
Hi, er, Arky. Can't stay too long, don't want to be a spod. 5553. Ulgine Barrows - 12/28/2005 11:44:29 AM what's a spod 5554. alistairconnor - 12/28/2005 1:38:26 PM you and me hunny...
people who are obsessive long-term users of on-line talk sites
But here's a definition I like more :
SPOD also stands for the "Spinning Pizza of Death", which describes the colorful, spinning circle in the Apple Mac OS X operating system that indicates that the application under the cursor has become unresponsive.
Obviously designed by Flying Spaghetti Monster cultists. 5555. Ulgine Barrows - 12/29/2005 8:49:51 AM hunny bunny! Like from the Pulp Fiction movie!
I am in SO in the mood to do a crime.
Feeling outlandish, hard core
Bitter end
5556. Ulgine Barrows - 12/29/2005 8:59:11 AM Good lord, I've posted a lot of nonsense in this thread.
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