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5851. Ulgine Barrows - 4/5/2007 7:54:47 AM "Commitment
The occasional gleeful screech of a child " 5852. Ulgine Barrows - 4/5/2007 8:02:06 AM That's not poetry
I love/hate my son
When he was 3, I couldn't urinate
or change a tampon
by myself
without him smacking my door
Now, son is 12
And cleaning up
after himself is a foreign concept
that I smack his door with 5853. NuPlanetOne - 4/21/2007 7:49:12 PM Billions
Earth time, the observation
A sun rise, a sunset
Time, the concept
A life, a death
Forever, the hope
More time, given time
Always, the conundrum
No birth, no end
And just things
Awake and observing
Living things
And empty space
Where it all swirls
About a galactic center
Who, what or why
Swirling along with it
Billions of balls of swirl
Perhaps swirling about
A greater unfathomed center
And time, the river
No estuary, no source
Just a current.
5854. Ulgine Barrows - 4/25/2007 7:25:38 AM I see purple when I read that, NuPlanetOne, maybe some blues. 5855. NuPlanetOne - 5/19/2007 3:54:38 PM If you live long enough
Memory, after all
Is a short term thing
A bodily function
You sit in a room
Your head
And are allowed
A big picture
On each facing wall
The big reminders
With lots of small
Pictures around them
Snippets of images
That evolved out of
And along with
The big pictures
Sections of your life
And as the walls fill
You look them over
And see where you are
Who you are
And what you could be
The small pictures
Various traumas, joys
Accumulate, distract
But you organize
And keep them connected
Eventually, the big pictures
Get brighter
Take over a wall
Soon only the big pictures
Remain
If you live long enough
You will just have
A few big pictures
Hopefully, just one
A comfortable idea
Of what it all means
Now, the other walls
Will be needed
To connect the passing
Minutes
Concerned with muscles
And minor routine
And perhaps
You might only
Recall, squinting
Those exuberant montages
That built the big pictures
And experience yourself
Not as a single entity
Nor even as an imbued spirit
But with a clear recollection
That explains everything.
5856. NuPlanetOne - 5/25/2007 4:03:55 PM Chieftains
What God is this
Who calls for vengeance
And rewards the taking
Of innocent lives?
What prayers are these
That ask forgiveness
For lesser sins
Than one that is offered?
What morals are these
That shape pain into hate
And prey upon suffering
For gross worldly gain?
That God would speak
And again bring the word
And remind these men
The tribe is not a temple.
5857. Seamus - 6/8/2007 7:58:24 PM I have enjoyed these re-writes that you are doing for your chapbook, Sir Nu.
I quite like this last one, Chieftains. The anger is so sincere, so palpable, that it simply flows. And there is nothing I want to do when I read it but permit it to flow over me.
And this:
And remind these men
The tribe is not a temple
is powerful. Do you consider this a "political" piece? In any event, well done, Nu! It is good to see you.
And hello to Ulgine, alistair, Rick, wonk, jex, arky and anyone else who may be looking in. Mac, conas tá tú?
5858. Seamus - 6/8/2007 8:07:06 PM For Mac:
An excerpt from Eavan Boland's "Colony":
Witness
Here is the city—
its worn-down mountains,
its grass and iron,
its smoky coast
seen from the high roads
on the Wicklow side.
From Dalkey Island
to the North Wall,
to the blue distance seizing its perimeter,
its old divisions are deep within it.
And in me also.
And always will be.
Out of my mouth they come:
The spurred and booted garrisons.
The men and women
they dispossessed.
What is a colony
if not the brutal truth
that when we speak
the graves open.
And the dead walk?
5859. NuPlanetOne - 6/25/2007 7:38:19 PM Seamus…definitely political. All about me and all of us here, really, we are faced with our young ones contemplating enlistment. It’s hard to give advice and encouragement when we know that on average 3-4 troops meet an untimely end over there every day. Then, of course, how do we downplay patriotism and duty merely because it is a loved one who would offer themselves up to a tour of duty that surely includes harms’ way. On the one hand, I feel the evil of this war to be ghastly and illogical. Indefensible, suicidal, fundamental drones, that is, truly unique. On the other hand, I think of the insane diabolical logic of the Third Reich, and I realize that evil, however it puts its coat on, will always be the same enemy to freedom and democracy. Our vested, global, corporate interests, unfortunately, always seem to become a cottage industry and dissect the serpent evil into pieces that further their bottom line. Something like that Oz Oilman hiding behind George in his quiet corner over on Pennsylvania Ave. Human nature?
Then there is the grand cosmic significance of it all. Players just strutting the stage in this, the best of all possible worlds. Always good and evil, sick or sane. And there amongst it all, you and me scribbling our poems in hope of making it all sensible. Ha! 2 more pints, we’ll get it right. Always good to know you lurk here and about my friend, ciao.
5860. Seamus - 7/12/2007 9:20:01 PM I know it's not exactly de rigueur to title a sonnet, but...
POEM: Molecular chaperones, like nuns, are an ugly nuisance but they have a job to do
Oh Sister Moira Agnes, you have failed
us so. To take us up and keep us whole—
God's use for you—why wouldn't you prevail?
Maeve's life and mine are now destroyed. The shoal—
we've dashed upon by lying on the hill.
To each other binding wrongwise, her site
so misaligned with my domain, yet still
lithe Maeve's pregnant from one misfolded night.
Oh how we wish you’d caught us there, you old
unloving nun—to fold us on our own,
to warn us both of fire and stone, to scold
us, scare and scatter young Maeve and me, alone.
Ora pro nobis—Agnes, in this same way,
with faithless hands—in hora mortis nostrae.
Seamus
(If that manner of nonsense can in any way be explained away, the best I suppose I can offer is that I've been about contemplating whether matters of physics and chemistry and biology and thermodynamics are all that foreign to those of life and love and war and death. Oh yes, and also a pony.)
5861. Ulgine Barrows - 7/13/2007 9:56:43 AM Sorry to be a Beavis & Butthead, NuPlanetOne, but when I saw this
"Recall, squinting"
I did that heh-heh thing.
Squint, heh-heh. Getting older, getting different humor. 5862. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 8:44:31 AM well dang, I wanted you to laugh with me, NuPlanetOne.
In other news, I defended Avril Lavigne lyrics on another discussion board.
So I could be digging a deeper hole, but probably not, since I am lifting upwards.
winky 5863. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 8:53:57 AM Born and raised in Pineola, his mama believed in the Pentecost
She got the preacher to say some words so his soul wouldn't get lost
~Lucinda Williams 5864. Ulgine Barrows - 7/18/2007 9:02:59 AM Didn't you think you were worth anything
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
See what you lost when you left this world, this sweet old world
~Lucinda Williams
5865. wabbit - 7/23/2007 3:28:48 PM Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night There was an old father of Dylan
Who was seriously, mortally illin'
"I want," Dylan said
"You to bitch till you're dead.
"I'll be cheesed if you kick it while chillin'."
Famous Poems Rewritten as Limericks5866. arkymalarky - 7/23/2007 5:01:06 PM Great link. Thanks!
5867. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 6:40:53 AM wabbit, thanks. That made me snort. 5868. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 6:45:00 AM there was a wabbit of mote
who posted a hip-hop note
the others who read it
continued to spread it
the wabbit of mote now is world-note 5869. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:32:43 AM I want to know you
I want to show you
I want to grow you
Inside of me
I want to see you
I want to free you
I want to be you
Inside of me
Love me 50,000 miles beneath my brain
Love me 50,000 times and then again
Can you love me with a thousand eyes?
Can you see right through my bones?
Can you kiss me with a thousand lips?
Can you melt a solid stone?
Can you hear me from a thousand miles
When you're screaming at the stars?
Can you pull me up to Jupiter
When I'm all hung up on Mars?
Burn my eyes with your flame
Let your world spin free
Let it go, baby
I'll do the same 5870. Ulgine Barrows - 7/25/2007 8:33:34 AM ~ Ten Years After, oopsie
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