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5326. Ulgine Barrows - 10/9/2004 6:45:33 AM I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is
-Nelly Furtado
5327. angel-five - 10/9/2004 4:09:19 PM Still partly asleep
with the concrete balcony
sucking warmth from my bare feet.
Rich latte lips
wrap around my cigarette.
Traffic sussurus
roars out on the asphalt reef.
A bathrobe haiku
seldom obeys many rules.
So stop counting beats. 5328. angel-five - 10/9/2004 4:26:26 PM Sprawled on a futon
Unfolded human laundry
still wrinkled from sleep.
Steel beasts honking
Poisonous idiot geese.
I need a chain gun.
Goddamned fucking cars
will not be fucking quiet.
My phone keeps beeping.
Can't you damn people
sleep in on a Saturday?
This world needs a gag.
Pundits rattling
their bone boxes on TV
Soporific sheep.
Where are my CDs?
Woman moves everything places
and doesn't tell me.
Good thing I love her.
Bathrobe Haiku finds nature
in some strange places
5329. marjoribanks - 10/9/2004 5:10:20 PM Nice, Res, very evocative and pure. 5330. RickNelson - 10/12/2004 4:16:18 PM I used to connect to Saturday morning sleep. It's a waste of good day to me now.
I agree with marj.
I've worked on this latest and I'm sorta Ok with it. The end or it's line work aren't exactly what I want. It's the idea of working wood and it's smooth sensual properties I entertain. Yeah, that's it.
Sensual:
I fashion something with my hands.
Say, the finest balusters in a mansion.
And the finial at the landing turns;
are orb top acorns fuller than
A large breast. Morning Glory vine carvings …
actually
Someone’s attention would
not be enough. I know the thought,
to make more, and perhaps elaborate
works I entertain. Day or night
my hands labor, to seek a sensuous
curve of wood…
I consume my imagination. 5331. angel-five - 10/12/2004 6:22:35 PM alpha, omega
your mother's a beta
and she's got a better
beard than your dad
delta, zeta
your sister was made to
prop up a street light
and bob on my knob
gamma, theta,
there's just no way that
I'm not gonna beat up
your republican cousin
phi psi rho eta
fraternity hazing
let's bong some vodka
and pass out on the lawn. 5332. NuPlanetOne - 10/14/2004 8:32:57 PM My New England Bones
You know the sound. It’s not the whoosh
and folding of the leaves that billow with
the wind. That move in a big way from
just a whisper of a breath of air and wave
happily and all together. No. It is the
rattling sound. The noise of cooler air
bristling through branches. It is like
a new being. A different animal. As if
each leave now had a shrunken meaner face
that could no longer murmur or smile
But grudgingly held on and scraped a sound
into the passing breeze until it excited
a vengeful gust to sweep it off and allow
it to drift onto the surface to wait out the
coming winter. You know the look now
After the whole mass of individual leaves had
screamed an alarm in dazzling color telling
every breathing thing that the end was near
That the cycle, that the sun, that the angle
of warmth would now turn away and bring
more darkness and cold and force all to
shelter and wait. So the look now is gray
And brown and half naked and starved
And the sounds are sharper and shrill and
the shadows stark and two-dimensional
Until mostly you don’t hear the trees at all
For the wind becomes a whistling thing
Without the happy smiling leaves to deflect it
It speeds on through howling in delight
The new master and mover of the universe
Where a cacophony of crickets once
held on to the night in a rhythmic chatter,
the random gusts now whiz and hiss and whistle
Like an opus for a dastard woodwind
..cont
5333. NuPlanetOne - 10/14/2004 8:33:25 PM It’s a dread I suppose. You know the feeling
That voice that says follow those bird formations
Heed the splashes of gold and orange and red
That tell your eyes to tell your skin to coarsen
That warn of shorter days and colder nights
Oh yes, it does not chill all at once
The early autumn can be a bath of sunshine
Idyllic afternoons with a sun so bright with
glistening noise that the surreal beauty of the
leaves cause one to stop transfixed in awe
and admiration and allows one to absorb
the warning, yet marvel with the moment
Thankful for the harvest but ever wary
Knowing that as October begins quietly,
there crouching behind the veil of color,
is the hoary beast that welcomes the North Wind
You know how quick that wind can come
And with it, you know how abrupt the season
can go, how in an instant, the sun glows silent.
….cont
5334. NuPlanetOne - 10/14/2004 8:33:44 PM And yet, you do not know, really, why you love it
Why the sounds and ticking down of the season
are as much of you, are as a part of your soul
as living itself. You remember that somewhere
hidden deep inside is that winter hermit that
needs that reclusive spot by a warm hearth
That place to reflect and hibernate and rest
in ignorance of that world outside. You long
to bundle up and wander into the cold. You love
the feeling of getting back into the warmth. You
love the battle with the fierce chill and flying snow
That with time you adjust and a normalcy settles in.
And as leaves scuttle across the hardened road,
and squirrels scamper as night comes quickly,
you wonder if your new England bones will
again weather the season. For it seems they must
You wonder if it is a sadness or a quiet promise
that the first few flakes will deliver as they blanket
your outside world. Will the cold and dark and
fire lit nights, the slushy treks and icicled panes
be worth the wait. Be worth the incomparable
hope and rebirth of feeling that will come again in spring
You know that feeling. And you long for it.
As all about you, the trees go bare.
5335. Ulgine Barrows - 10/15/2004 4:32:00 AM That makes me think about spring, it does, that last line.
Funny how some people die thinking they won't reach spring
And others are too stubborn, not to 5336. ElliottRW - 10/23/2004 2:56:18 AM Here's a song I'm working on:
You've got your own money. You've got a body that's fine.
You've got brains, beauty, and time. Sweet time.
Your world is an oyster. Your world...is better than mine.
So...
What the hell do you want with a loser like me?
Huh?
What the hell do you want with a loser like me?
Am I a fool, or a curiosity?
Tell me...
What is it you see in a loser like me?
It works with the music, but something about it doesn't work. It lacks...balance. I don't feel like it communicates enough hope and longing. It seems shallowly cynical, even self-pitying.
I'm trying to achieve something more mature. What I want people to visualize is a middle-aged man, a divorcee perhaps, not unattractive perhaps, but mostly used up talking to an attractive young woman
I'm open to suggestions here. Rip it to shreds. 5337. Ulgine Barrows - 10/24/2004 3:26:22 AM IMO, the self-pity is in this line
Your world...is better than mine.
Expand on the Sweet time part of it, maybe?
How you would do that, I've no idea.
I like the refrain
What the hell do you want with a loser like me?
Am I a fool, or a curiosity?
. 5338. ElliottRW - 10/24/2004 5:32:10 AM Thanks Ulgine.
Thanks for the good advice and the kind words. I've decided to ditch the world line; it is half-cliché, half self-pity. I'm not sure what to replace it with.
Still, I'm optimistic I can make it work now. 5339. Bill Russell - 10/24/2004 9:56:55 AM Life is a Witch, and then you fly
Bumper Sticker
5340. Bill Russell - 10/24/2004 10:10:08 AM Hauku Poems:
Midday
Middle of the street:
Leaf-fall
......................................................
Refreshing shower
Falls from my watering can
Catching a rainbow.
......................................................
Evening Prayer-Call
Voices colour the spaces
Outlined by swallows.
......................................................
Among hedgerow roots,
Crisp leaves and patches of light:
Blackbird's wary eye.
..........................................................
Saturated mist;
Clear jewel on the leaf-point,
Drip! The river starts.
.........................................................
Glint of dragonflies
Here and there, beside the reeds
Of the Red River.
............................................................
Exploring the world
And yet never far from home:
Snail crosses my path.
.....................................................
Winter comes:
Books pile a foot high
By my bedside.
....................................................
New building site screens
Acres of corporate green
And just one handprint.
........................................................
5341. Bill Russell - 10/24/2004 10:14:49 AM Correction:
Those are HAIKU poems .... 5342. RickNelson - 10/25/2004 4:13:34 PM 5336. ElliottRW - 10/22/2004 8:56:18 PM
Here's a song I'm working on:
You've got your own money. You've got a body that's fine.
You've got brains, beauty, and time. Sweet time.
Your world is an oyster. Your world...is better than mine.
So...
What the hell do you want with a loser like me? (lose this)
(Replace with)when hell comes knockin' look me up
I'm up for you
I'm up for you...
Huh?(lose this)
We'll make fun of the pain baby, we'll make fun
Are you a curious fine thing?
Tell me...
Where you gonna find another like me?
It works with the music, but something about it doesn't work. It lacks...balance. I don't feel like it communicates enough hope and longing. It seems shallowly cynical, even self-pitying.
I'm trying to achieve something more mature. What I want people to visualize is a middle-aged man, a divorcee perhaps, not unattractive perhaps, but mostly used up talking to an attractive young woman
I'm open to suggestions here. Rip it to shreds.
5343. RickNelson - 10/25/2004 4:19:07 PM New building site screens
Acres of corporate green
And just one handprint.
This one is very interesting. Are you getting this from your past work or just coming up with them as you post?
I find that it's just a mood that I'm in when writing Haiku and most of it just happens in real time. 5344. RickNelson - 10/25/2004 4:24:09 PM Elliot, I found you put too much self-pity in it. I also hear another song... "...loser, so why don't you kill me..." when I read your lines. It's not that song, but I can't help hear myself connect to it. I'm not sure if it would be better for the song to add clarity to the person of infatuations personality?
My take of your song:
You've got your own money. You've got a body that's fine.
You've got brains, beauty, and time. Sweet time.
Your world is an oyster. Your world...is better than mine.
So...
when hell comes knockin' look me up
I'm up for you
I'm up for you...
We'll make fun of the pain baby, we'll make fun
Are you a curious fine thing?
Tell me...
Where you gonna find another like me?
5345. ElliottRW - 10/25/2004 4:39:27 PM Rick,
Thanks! I now see how the word "loser" is just too loaded to be used effectively. And the lyrics you suggest have a lot of appeal. I'm not sure I can use them as is, though.
Perhaps it will help if I show where I'm going with the song. The song is an attempt to juxtapose a man's carnal desire, and vanity, with his authentic virtue, kindness. He's not really insecure or self-pitying; he's conflicted.
In later verses I intend to expose that while this guy would love a roll in the hay, he believes it would be wrong to have a long term relationship with such a young woman. Wrong for her, but also wrong for him because the guilt would kill him. This is the tension I'm trying to achieve. It's about temptation.
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