Climate buffs are a curious bunch.
They peer breakfast, dinner and lunch
Out of windows just to see
If what it be, be what it be.
Their drosometers, barometers, ruthless gauges
Indicate if the world be calm, or if it rages;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Might catch the local meteorologist napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before you from whence it flew.
They'll describe precisely rain in the Azores
While nestled comfortably indoors.
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect the art of second guessing
Those who do not have misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
Here is the edited version of the poem. The only change is the addition of a question mark:
Originally posted by grooveamatic Climate buffs are a curious bunch.
They peer breakfast, dinner and lunch
Out of windows just to see
If what it be, be what it be.
Their drosometers, barometers, ruthless gauges
Indicate if the world be calm, or if it rages;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Might catch the local meteorologist napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before you from whence it flew.
They'll describe precisely rain in the Azores
While nestled comfortably indoors,
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect the art of second guessing?
Those who do not have misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
Originally posted by grooveamatic Climate buffs are a curious bunch.
They peer breakfast, dinner and lunch
Out of windows just to see
If what it be, be what it be.
Their drosometers, barometers, ruthless gauges
Indicate if the world be calm, or if it rages;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Might catch the local meteorologist napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before you from whence it flew.
They'll describe precisely rain in the Azores
While nestled comfortably indoors,
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect the art of second guessing
Those who do not have misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
this be a bit choppy, in terms of meter? and perhaps I am the same as I've a glass of wine within... but here, if I may...
Climate buffs are a curious bunch.
They peer breakfast, dinner, lunch
Out of windows, just to see
If what it be, be what it be. (love this)
Their drosometers, barometers, gauges
Indicate the world be calm, or raging;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Catch a meteorologist, napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before from whence it flew.
Precisely, describe rain in Azores
Nestled comfortably indoors,
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect this art, this second guessing
Those who have nonesuch misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
I like some of the changes quite a bit, Pasta. A few change some of the words that I am fond of, but some are perfect. I do believe I'll go back and re-do the whole thing, keeping your suggestions in mind.
I've known it sounded a bit off, but was so smitten with some parts of it I simply let it be. Thanks for kickin' my butt into gear!
can't help but change "indoors" to "indoores" i know it wouldn't make sense, but would follow, with Voice, the perfectly delightful "if what it be be what it be"
Originally posted by PastaNazi it's a lovely theme, groove-a
can't help but change "indoors" to "indoores" i know it wouldn't make sense, but would follow, with Voice, the perfectly delightful "if what it be be what it be"
Let's not place any blame today;
I've many things I'd like to accomplish
And places I'd most like to see
As I'm sure you are interested in a myriad of things today as well.
We could always go for a walk through the countryside
To look at all the colors, all the blue in the sky.
Or if you prefer you could go to town
While I sleep late, or eat chocolate,
Or any other of the many interesting things we are invariably interested in.
Today would be a fine day for a swim,
And I know you want to go shopping for clothes. You said so.
So we have very much we could do today,
Let's place all the blame somewhere tommorow.
And who cares if, while we sleep,
The moon glides down to point fingers in our dreams?
Shame is a country
Run by evil little men
With money in their eyes
And babies in their bellies
Waiting in high offices
With guns and scripts to tease
And terrorize you with.
Shame is a big country
With leaders made of stone
And streets paved with face-skin
Where everything is exactly what it seems,
And everything seems to be burning, and have The Crabs.
Shame is such a big country
That there be unexplored corners of it
Where small animals and sentient little pebbles
Cower from the terror and tyrrany of the hugeness of the country.
Shame is such a bad country to live in
That I've seen expatriates walking down the street,
Shaking their heads at invisible nothings,
Talking to the radio stations playing in their brains,
Pushing shopping carts or prams
Full of aluminum cans and glass bottles
Which have been dug out of dumpsters and damp gutters.
The next post is a newer poem that I would enjoy some feedback on. Is the action in the poem clear? Is the poem understandable? What kind of mood have I set? Thanks for any feedback you can give me!
The dog doesn't know me
But he licks my face
When I cling to the wall
Of the swimming pool.
His breath is that of stamps and flour,
Not pleasant or unpleasant.
I submerge.
The world drops away.
Flowering then unflowering my legs,
I push off the wall,
Glide noiselessly over the chlorinated landscape
Until I encounter the other wall.
I surface.
Glancing toward the dog,
I see he has retreated from the pool's edge,
Is laying on his side in the sun.
He is having fun being a dog.
I submerge once again,
Flower then unflower my legs,
Go back the way I came.
I surface.
He is there, waiting for me.
He licks my face,
His breath not pleasant or unpleasant.
Who wove Spring so wily
And delicious must firmly
Apologize; there is no requiem
For the solitude of snows
Such as your season sings,
Only hearty heaps of human
Gaiety and distrust.
This is not a complaint
But an observation.
The wind is so strong today
The trees nearly topple.
It races across the field
In breaking waves
Bringing with it
The remnants of other places.
The wind is so sad.
It pushes things around
And gladly moves on.
Dark clouds glance down
To hurriedly nod their approval.
When age stands triumphant and gawky
Over it's grave
(whosoever had the gall to look so
young in those photographs,
whosoever had the foolishness
to look so pure,
whosoever had the youth to mock
the old)
When jokes and rain are all that may hide tears,
When tears and television are all that may hide memories,
When memories and fingerprints are all that may hide identity
(whosoever howls at the pale moon
in the back of a speeding truck,
stumbing over wrinkles and nose hair
and lives untouched)
When caskets and dirt fail to frighten,
When colorful days turn angry,
When broiling and frothing you fly forth
With fists beating solid enigmas,
You may die.
These quiet houses and cars will follow.
Upon a rising bird
I shall ascend;
Astride the backs of turtles
I will plod forever forward;
Within a beam of light
I'll race infinity;
Within one sharp moment
I will see it all undone.
It just made me think of that theory...I'm on spiritual planes right now,learning lessons while I write....!
BUT...I LIKE THE POEM!!!!It puts you somewhere..a different train of thought.
A whisper and a thrill
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
It just made me think of that theory...I'm on spiritual planes right now,learning lessons while I write....!
BUT...I LIKE THE POEM!!!!It puts you somewhere..a different train of thought.
I really see no reason why it couldn't be about that...it's about that and anything or everything else...it's a state of mind, really.
I really see no reason why it couldn't be about that...it's about that and anything or everything else...it's a state of mind, really.
Well..yes..there's this thing.Its like a communication theory:)
I presuaded you,I'm sorry...but..its like I can read into your subconcious...
I just keep seeing Indians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Reincarnation into the spirit world?
A whisper and a thrill
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
What if this tree fell on me?
Holy shit!
It could! It could!
Then where would I be?
I'd be underneath a tree!
Holy shit! Holy shit!
That would not be good.
I'd be underneath a tree!
And what if animals like rabbits and groundhogs
Came to help me and move the tree for me?
Wow! What a thought!
But what if they came to eat me?
Most unfortunate indeed--
Comments
awww shucks...I'm just a lonely cook from the middle of nowhere.
Thanks, ISN!
They peer breakfast, dinner and lunch
Out of windows just to see
If what it be, be what it be.
Their drosometers, barometers, ruthless gauges
Indicate if the world be calm, or if it rages;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Might catch the local meteorologist napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before you from whence it flew.
They'll describe precisely rain in the Azores
While nestled comfortably indoors.
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect the art of second guessing
Those who do not have misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
this be a bit choppy, in terms of meter? and perhaps I am the same as I've a glass of wine within... but here, if I may...
Climate buffs are a curious bunch.
They peer breakfast, dinner, lunch
Out of windows, just to see
If what it be, be what it be. (love this)
Their drosometers, barometers, gauges
Indicate the world be calm, or raging;
While the brazen sound of thunder clapping
Catch a meteorologist, napping,
Not so the alert hobbyist, who
Knew before from whence it flew.
Precisely, describe rain in Azores
Nestled comfortably indoors,
And do they need the Church's blessing
To perfect this art, this second guessing
Those who have nonesuch misgivings
Are here for looking, not for living.
hope you doesn't mind
I've known it sounded a bit off, but was so smitten with some parts of it I simply let it be. Thanks for kickin' my butt into gear!
can't help but change "indoors" to "indoores" i know it wouldn't make sense, but would follow, with Voice, the perfectly delightful "if what it be be what it be"
I get it! It is very funny!
Great idea!
I loved it, btw...I went to comment on it and the thread is closed! I must say, I didn't fully understand the poem, but the language is brilliant!
I've many things I'd like to accomplish
And places I'd most like to see
As I'm sure you are interested in a myriad of things today as well.
We could always go for a walk through the countryside
To look at all the colors, all the blue in the sky.
Or if you prefer you could go to town
While I sleep late, or eat chocolate,
Or any other of the many interesting things we are invariably interested in.
Today would be a fine day for a swim,
And I know you want to go shopping for clothes. You said so.
So we have very much we could do today,
Let's place all the blame somewhere tommorow.
And who cares if, while we sleep,
The moon glides down to point fingers in our dreams?
Run by evil little men
With money in their eyes
And babies in their bellies
Waiting in high offices
With guns and scripts to tease
And terrorize you with.
Shame is a big country
With leaders made of stone
And streets paved with face-skin
Where everything is exactly what it seems,
And everything seems to be burning, and have The Crabs.
Shame is such a big country
That there be unexplored corners of it
Where small animals and sentient little pebbles
Cower from the terror and tyrrany of the hugeness of the country.
Shame is such a bad country to live in
That I've seen expatriates walking down the street,
Shaking their heads at invisible nothings,
Talking to the radio stations playing in their brains,
Pushing shopping carts or prams
Full of aluminum cans and glass bottles
Which have been dug out of dumpsters and damp gutters.
But he licks my face
When I cling to the wall
Of the swimming pool.
His breath is that of stamps and flour,
Not pleasant or unpleasant.
I submerge.
The world drops away.
Flowering then unflowering my legs,
I push off the wall,
Glide noiselessly over the chlorinated landscape
Until I encounter the other wall.
I surface.
Glancing toward the dog,
I see he has retreated from the pool's edge,
Is laying on his side in the sun.
He is having fun being a dog.
I submerge once again,
Flower then unflower my legs,
Go back the way I came.
I surface.
He is there, waiting for me.
He licks my face,
His breath not pleasant or unpleasant.
I feel kinda weird bumping my own thread....but I really wanted the advice on this one. I know people have read it!!
And delicious must firmly
Apologize; there is no requiem
For the solitude of snows
Such as your season sings,
Only hearty heaps of human
Gaiety and distrust.
This is not a complaint
But an observation.
The trees nearly topple.
It races across the field
In breaking waves
Bringing with it
The remnants of other places.
The wind is so sad.
It pushes things around
And gladly moves on.
Dark clouds glance down
To hurriedly nod their approval.
And shadows follow,
Leaving no glowing stone upended
Then shall I--
Only then--
Leak what I have leased.
Whenupon the slumber stirs
My rested limbs to flail,
In this sunrise
And
In this twilight,
I shall nod, and not weep.
Death is but a pretty toy:
To be tinkered with
And consequently forgotten.
And life is bluntly
A balloon
Filled with molasses
Which just leaks, leaks.
O car not my car
Life that is not my life
Remain exactly where you are
O crazy that belongs to me
O trouble that's my trouble
Problems, queries, bank accounts
Constructing windows from my rubble
I'm not Janet and I'm not Steve
And neither are you, neither are you.
I am going to take a walk now.
O! What will Steve's life do?
Ebb
Within this
Solid flux,
This
Piano stool.
Over it's grave
(whosoever had the gall to look so
young in those photographs,
whosoever had the foolishness
to look so pure,
whosoever had the youth to mock
the old)
When jokes and rain are all that may hide tears,
When tears and television are all that may hide memories,
When memories and fingerprints are all that may hide identity
(whosoever howls at the pale moon
in the back of a speeding truck,
stumbing over wrinkles and nose hair
and lives untouched)
When caskets and dirt fail to frighten,
When colorful days turn angry,
When broiling and frothing you fly forth
With fists beating solid enigmas,
You may die.
These quiet houses and cars will follow.
I shall ascend;
Astride the backs of turtles
I will plod forever forward;
Within a beam of light
I'll race infinity;
Within one sharp moment
I will see it all undone.
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
that is surely one way it could be looked at
BUT...I LIKE THE POEM!!!!It puts you somewhere..a different train of thought.
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
I really see no reason why it couldn't be about that...it's about that and anything or everything else...it's a state of mind, really.
Well..yes..there's this thing.Its like a communication theory:)
I presuaded you,I'm sorry...but..its like I can read into your subconcious...
I just keep seeing Indians!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Reincarnation into the spirit world?
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
Holy shit!
It could! It could!
Then where would I be?
I'd be underneath a tree!
Holy shit! Holy shit!
That would not be good.
I'd be underneath a tree!
And what if animals like rabbits and groundhogs
Came to help me and move the tree for me?
Wow! What a thought!
But what if they came to eat me?
Most unfortunate indeed--
--and almost enough said--
but other people's kids
will be you,
so raise your offerings
and bow your tokens,
slop your swaddle
you dirty you.
more like...
"you dirty kid".
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
Slip through my fingers
Into buckets of past
And lives unnumbered.
Like Liquid days
Leak from my eyes,
Sauntering off the face
Of a man unproven.
Like rain minutes
Ricochet unnoticed each,
Soaking of anonymity
A wardrobe of fear.
Like brick months
Envelop the edifice,
In which all may tumble
By the lamplight.