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5706. Ulgine Barrows - 5/27/2006 8:53:25 AM Rickover's Dream
Michael Hedges..... 5707. Ulgine Barrows - 5/27/2006 8:53:58 AM kisses 5708. webfeet - 6/2/2006 5:50:36 PM Nuplanet, your intervention in the dance of death between the spider and your cat brought to mind a favorite poem of Robert Frost.
Design
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.
5709. Ulgine Barrows - 6/10/2006 2:24:18 AM I found a dimpled spider, fat and white
And I smacked it dead, quite right
ugh. See, I know that's the difference between a poet and me.
I kill the fat white spiders.
The brown daddy-long-legs, I let go free.
White spiders are usually hauling around some baby sac.
Whack! Whack!
Bane on society! 5710. wonkers2 - 6/20/2006 8:33:30 PM George W. Bush, The Lion of Baghdad, Demands that Syria Withdraw from Syria
You must withdraw, since nations can't
Install their troops in other places
To change regimes that they don't like.
Except, of course, in certain cases.
Calvin Trillin April 4, 2005
"A Heckuva Job--More of the Bush Administration in Rhyme" Ramdom House New York 2006 5711. Ulgine Barrows - 6/24/2006 8:08:13 AM no
it just won't do
George W. Bush, The Lion of Baghdad 5712. Ulgine Barrows - 6/24/2006 9:29:15 AM The cat I don't want to love
Comes up to me after a shower
And I'm lying there with a hangover
And he starts tenderizing my belly 5713. Ulgine Barrows - 7/1/2006 5:50:55 AM lightly
lightly
kiss my belly
give me the best
orgasm
I've had in 20 years
melt me to you
I'm yours 4evah 5714. Ulgine Barrows - 7/8/2006 4:37:55 AM If that freaked y'all out, take a look at the dates.
The cat I was lovin, yeah, who doesn't love it when a cat punches them up and tenderizes them.
The acutal human sex was in post 5713, my husband and I reconnected.
Life is good.
Yes.
I'm in love with my husband again. I'm crying happy tears. 5715. Ulgine Barrows - 7/9/2006 7:38:49 AM 5703. NuPlanetOne
You must have an old cat.
A young cat would kill the spider before you had a chance to pat the cat's head.
I'm getting a bit tired of the entrails left about. We've young cats. 5716. RickNelson - 7/9/2006 12:27:11 PM I'll bet everyone got the reference Ulgine, it tickles my funny bone. I love cats, but both my ours have passed away since 2002. One was our beloved Pat, who was with us for 15 yrs and we loved him so. Our son was born and we tried to be affectionate to both, but found our Pat getting distant. Then we saw it that he was sick, he went so fast.
I miss my belly massages, and he was a calico, tiger cat mix, real orange striped with some distinct white. One was a crescent moon along his spine.
Just the best of cats. 5717. Ulgine Barrows - 7/14/2006 7:22:18 AM RickNelson
I put my face into my hands, and I cry. 5718. RickNelson - 7/29/2006 2:51:09 PM There once was a poet named rick
who lost his mind and went thick
took up a stick, and wanted to fish
got some line, a hook and that did the trick. 5719. Ulgine Barrows - 8/2/2006 8:23:51 AM A.C NewmAN
YEah, like I cARE
He was tied to the bed with a miracle drug in one hand,
In the other, a great lost novel that, I understand, was returned with a stamp
That said "thank you for your interest, young man."
While preparing his soul for a perilous slide into crime,
He had decided that he would err on this side of divine,
Being told this was wise, that there'd be payback with interest in due time
So why all the history now?
He was tied to a job selling miracle drugs from his home,
At his door every morning, a trophy arrived with the dawn,
With the following inscribed:
"we've followed you with interest for some time."
So why all the history now?
He was tied to the bed with a miracle drug in one hand. 5720. Seamus - 8/17/2006 5:05:06 PM surprise
maybe he would drop
dead she hoped
to haul anchor
and phone in
the rest of his life
for a sweat-ringed
Guinness or a guinea
or one more thing
he could use up
first was her hunger
to taste something
different this way
comes a buzz and jolt
and a hit off
that electric fence
in the same way
she was warned
don't touch
before she grabbed
for the ring
she knew
she would take
a quick ten
years off him
but felt twice that
slip from somewhere
between the small
of her back
against the grey walls
of the flat and the face
it was her job
to put on again
each morning
Seamus 5721. arkymalarky - 8/17/2006 10:18:38 PM Hey Seamus!
I like it. What/who inspired it, I wonder? 5722. Seamus - 8/17/2006 10:44:34 PM Hi arky!
Inspiration was a desire to see if I could be anywhere close to faithful to a voice that wasn't male--most proximately, I loved a poem written by a woman (shann palmer) in which she effortlessly wore the voices of men at a poetry reading by a young woman and got it so bang on, she made me embarrassed for my gender.
I'm glad you liked it. As you can see, I appear to be incapable of landing on a form. One day, heroic couplets, the next a total run-on like this. You'd think the fool could pick something and go with it. The flightiness helps to hide the lack of any depth, but I've fun with it all the same.
Seamus 5723. arkymalarky - 8/17/2006 10:51:22 PM Hey, I'm the same way when it comes to reading them. ;-)
Of course the varied forms are part of what makes reading them so enjoyable! 5724. NuPlanetOne - 8/19/2006 12:50:33 AM seamus
…and you should have fun with it! Getting away from form and substance and fiercely studied iambs and hotly guarded pentameters or any kind of feet, shod or otherwise, is the muse on holiday. Your run-on is perfect style. As for gender, I heard the female voice, but more than that it is the human condition that rings true. Men and women are inherently different. There, I said it! But the differences should never be allowed to trump or disrespect an individuals human rights, even if patriarchal ideologies seem intractable and inevitable. At least in some places, such as your poem, there are havens in which one can celebrate or suffer the gender difference, and I suppose where a woman can rail against man in general, and men in particular, without fear of retaliation. What kinds of poetry do sexist sociopathic males read to monitor the inner feelings of their victims? I played golf with a guy whose ethics and courtesy and respect for the rules bordered on the obsessive. His guilt and shame over minor infractions were genuine. Yet the views he spouted on women playing the ancient game and the verbs and nouns and things he declared these detestable creatures would be more useful doing were all leveled publicly without one iota of any kind of guilt or room for discussion. And in the next breath apologizing in astonishingly heartfelt terms for stepping on my line on the putting green. And in the ‘what do you do for a living’ part of the bonding process I learn he is a guidance councilor at a middle school. I was hoping he was a used car salesman, that way no one would ever engage him expecting truth or respect, but such is life. Where the hell am I going with this? Oh, democracy, enfranchisement through exposure to the genderless human insight of individual inherent equality. Yup, force human rights down that assholes throat with a 1 iron. Or, read poems in a free society that expose bigotry or sexism or any bullshit that megalomaniacs thrive on! Especially a good one, like yours my old friend. Carry on.
5725. NuPlanetOne - 8/19/2006 12:51:10 AM Forever Now
The thing is time
It just gets here
Now it’s here again
It’s always here
Every second ever passed
Right here, now
What? Like that’s possible
Every event since the bang
The so called start
Right here, up to date
All of each incredible
Second of lives and deaths
Gone, remembered
In this new second of time
Starting right now
Every second, it all
Begins again
Anyone else have a problem
With that?
How is there significance?
It’s recorded, part of it
Now all of it
Is this where it’s headed
By some hocus pocus
We can jump back into it
Really feel those past seconds
See them, recreate them
Stay there a while
So the now is not such a death
Because it is a death
Those past seconds
And even to hold them a while
Is still clutching a dying thing
A fatal outlook, I suppose
Yet, that aside
(And forgiveness begged
To offended deities)
For in this moment
And for several gone by
I am content
But where did it go?
The stress of last week
The traumas of last year
That now I am content
They have no more meaning
Even though, traumas and dramas
Scream in every corner
All about me
My new second
In this moment
I am content
And everything that is everything
Anything that ever was
Is gone
Except me and the memory
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