Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots A friendly bump all the way to deserved prominence of place at the top of the poetry forum, for my favourite thread.
you are not being serious, are you ?
this should be my sentence among the miraculous works of yours, Pfor. Fins (I kinda got used to this name when addressing you )
yet another day... time for a revision
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
On the 2nd day I could breathe in
Save myself from drowning in this masquerade of sin.
With raising here my voice again
I´m telling you! that I wasn´t really trained to sing
Odes and hymns, of me adoring only you.
Where would my place be,
If devoting my entire life to thee,
What is there to gain for me?
My mind has lately been preoccupied
With doubled scenes of past events, present, and the future,
I am choosing one,
And that is now,
Being egocentric,
You better try to cope with it, somehow.
People are creating world as one by one,
If I´m thinking rationally that means
That I shall too, be count´.
In the past few times, you said, you have relaxed,
Clamed down,
I think it should be my turn now to let go,
Exhale.
I´m not marching on my own in rows
Of similar ideas, distinct hopes, and prayers,
Many there are still of us,
Who are, by melting past traditions, creating a new science.
Entering the world alone,
With less experience as you have,
Could, what you and I, both want to feel,
A family be said?
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
One more night survived
With forceful dreams and fears,
Many there are still to fight,
I hope that no one hears
The nervous blood forcing through my veins,
Screaming as it staunches.
I am here...
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots "The roar that lives on the other side of silence..."
You write well. I hear echoes of the deepest roars in literature, here.
you really know how to put it in words, don´t you?
thank you, as always Prof. Fins
btw, i really liked your last two poems in your thread. twisted, makes you think...
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots With these legs?
LOL!
Yes, with those legs! And I don't know about Pasta, but I'd like to see some cartwheels too! I hear that real men don't wear knickers under their little wool skirts. RRRRRREEEEOOOWW!
And exhale, I really enjoyed "The 2nd Day"!
Have a great day y'all!
Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
thank ye all for keeping up the thread while I´m wondering
around the temple of knowledge throughout the day.
the last class I took today was Shakespeare and my next
tribute is quite influenced by impulses from
Will´s era.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
The simple name of yours already, is hiding
But then again unfolding
Divine a story and the glory
Every lass should be a part of.
Her name,
The same,
a subject of his play,
Still living life today.
And it´s every single word
Causing tears,
In a way being even hurt;
And it´s scenes will never change.
Great a mystery his verse as well
Praising beauty and they shall
Take a deeper look at poems,
Learn from him
And make this planet an amazing sonnet.
People envy you,
Perhaps I could in these feelings catch myself too,
Although my thoughts aren´t hiding any evil.
This world does lack communication
But the unit of you two,
As a sample of the truth,
Could propose a love´s salvation.
To my tribute in the end,
There´s just one more thing to say:
When you´re holding love
And your grasp is honest,
Do not ever let it go,
Regardless all the choices.
A heart as open as his own,
The history of men
Has been always longing for.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
was contemplating for a while, if i should post this poem or not.
wasn´t sure about your reaction.
I´m relieved now,
and thank you for reading it
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Originally posted by exhale The simple name of yours already, is hiding
But then again unfolding
Divine a story and the glory
Every lass should be a part of.
Her name,
The same,
a subject of his play,
Still living life today.
And it´s every single word
Causing tears,
In a way being even hurt;
And it´s scenes will never change.
Great a mystery his verse as well
Praising beauty and they shall
Take a deeper look at poems,
Learn from him
And make this planet an amazing sonnet.
People envy you,
Perhaps I could in these feelings catch myself too,
Although my thoughts aren´t hiding any evil.
This world does lack communication
But the unit of you two,
As a sample of the truth,
Could propose a love´s salvation.
To my tribute in the end,
There´s just one more thing to say:
When you´re holding love
And your grasp is honest,
Do not ever let it go,
Regardless all the choices.
A heart as open as his own,
The history of men
Has been always longing for.
Thank you exhale,
Your words touch me, your words touch us all
Knowing that I, indeed, have something truly special
And, as we paint
The blank canvases of our lives
Vibrant
And rich with colors, textures, and experiences
Keep your heart always open and true
And love will find its way to you too!
'..... Ah! A perfect illustration of the poststructuralist paradox. Does the signifier "Merlot" correspond with the 'truth' of the bottle I polished off last night, or do we hold in our thoughts a different "signified" of bottle-of-Merlot-ness? Perhaps we're dreaming of the same bottle!" -FinsburyParkCarrots
Examining three little pots,
Bought the other day in this shop
Just around the corner
I can´t recall the owner
But that day I took a walk,
And while deciding which direction I should take
I remembered putting new plants on my shelves.
However, these three pots, I thought to use them better,
For strawberries perhaps, or bigger,
The kind of berries wouldn´t really matter
And so I went down the street, a little further.
I found the discount plant-shop, very modest,
I had little expectations, to be honest,
But in my surprise-the choice quite wide
Strawberry-plants immediately caught my eyes.
They must be few weeks old by now
Colour getting red, but still don´t know how
I should eat them, if with cream?
Maybe just like that, they sure are very sweet.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Originally posted by PastaNazi i love strawberries
hey, Pasta!
what are you doing here??
you should be celebrating your birthday right now,
having a huge party or something!
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Sometimes words on a screen are just words
and there are forceful personae constructed
in monolithic slabs of song, that would catch
in the throat like jagged concrete as you tried
to chew on them. But your words, however, are like
those strawberries you write about; they might
make a person shiver on the first taste with their
powerful rush of pulp on the quivering tongue
but then they work slowly, deliciously,
pleasing the senses thoroughly, because
really
they're
rather
beautiful
Probably like the person who wrote them,
One or two of us confer,
But then, we're just guessing.
Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots Sometimes words on a screen are just words
and there are forceful personae constructed
in monolithic slabs of song, that would catch
in the throat like jagged concrete as you tried
to chew on them. But your words, however, are like
those strawberries you write about; they might
make a person shiver on the first taste with their
powerful rush of pulp on the quivering tongue
but then they work slowly, deliciously,
pleasing the senses thoroughly, because
really
they're
rather
beautiful
Probably like the person who wrote them,
One or two of us confer,
But then, we're just guessing.
well, thank you Prof. Fins.
i´m only learning how to transform positive
impressions and events in my life into words.
i´ve never done it before, really. i rather enjoyed
the moments fully, and after they were finished
i couldn´t recall the thoughts and emotions to
create a poem.
i just came home from a street party in the centre of Berlin.
after 2 hours of fighting my way through the crowds I gave up.
so i´m home now, reading poetry, and relaxing while drinking my beer.
Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Berlin is such a place where thoughts get thought. It's not as good in the provinces, though, where conservative morals are the cause of public tradition. I was once in Hameln, in the summer of 1986 and aged nearly 14, as the locals were conducting their weekly Sunday performance of "The Pied Piper". I saw a great fat rat in the square watching the whole thing on a palette about three yards from the players. That rat was twitching its nose and following the whole spectacle, fascinated.
Exhale's a radical! Here's to the new tradition of public festivity!
Comments
you are not being serious, are you ?
this should be my sentence among the miraculous works of yours, Pfor. Fins (I kinda got used to this name when addressing you
yet another day... time for a revision
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Save myself from drowning in this masquerade of sin.
With raising here my voice again
I´m telling you! that I wasn´t really trained to sing
Odes and hymns, of me adoring only you.
Where would my place be,
If devoting my entire life to thee,
What is there to gain for me?
My mind has lately been preoccupied
With doubled scenes of past events, present, and the future,
I am choosing one,
And that is now,
Being egocentric,
You better try to cope with it, somehow.
People are creating world as one by one,
If I´m thinking rationally that means
That I shall too, be count´.
In the past few times, you said, you have relaxed,
Clamed down,
I think it should be my turn now to let go,
Exhale.
I´m not marching on my own in rows
Of similar ideas, distinct hopes, and prayers,
Many there are still of us,
Who are, by melting past traditions, creating a new science.
Entering the world alone,
With less experience as you have,
Could, what you and I, both want to feel,
A family be said?
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
With forceful dreams and fears,
Many there are still to fight,
I hope that no one hears
The nervous blood forcing through my veins,
Screaming as it staunches.
I am here...
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
You write well. I hear echoes of the deepest roars in literature, here.
haven´t heard from you for quite some time...
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
you really know how to put it in words, don´t you?
thank you, as always Prof. Fins
btw, i really liked your last two poems in your thread. twisted, makes you think...
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Germany is out!
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
i'm sorry :(
i'll try to keep up
looking forward to it
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Exhale's thread, we can't do without.
With these legs?
LOL!
Yes, with those legs! And I don't know about Pasta, but I'd like to see some cartwheels too!
And exhale, I really enjoyed "The 2nd Day"!
Have a great day y'all!
around the temple of knowledge throughout the day.
the last class I took today was Shakespeare and my next
tribute is quite influenced by impulses from
Will´s era.
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
But then again unfolding
Divine a story and the glory
Every lass should be a part of.
Her name,
The same,
a subject of his play,
Still living life today.
And it´s every single word
Causing tears,
In a way being even hurt;
And it´s scenes will never change.
Great a mystery his verse as well
Praising beauty and they shall
Take a deeper look at poems,
Learn from him
And make this planet an amazing sonnet.
People envy you,
Perhaps I could in these feelings catch myself too,
Although my thoughts aren´t hiding any evil.
This world does lack communication
But the unit of you two,
As a sample of the truth,
Could propose a love´s salvation.
To my tribute in the end,
There´s just one more thing to say:
When you´re holding love
And your grasp is honest,
Do not ever let it go,
Regardless all the choices.
A heart as open as his own,
The history of men
Has been always longing for.
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Most of cassia's poems are about Julie, as are mine. Julie seems even beyond her reality to symbolise the rarest beauty.
Thank you for immortalising her in your poem.
wasn´t sure about your reaction.
I´m relieved now,
and thank you for reading it
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Thank you exhale,
Your words touch me, your words touch us all
Knowing that I, indeed, have something truly special
And, as we paint
The blank canvases of our lives
Vibrant
And rich with colors, textures, and experiences
Keep your heart always open and true
And love will find its way to you too!
of wisdom spun as purple prose
So if you would oblige us, please
It would give Friday grace and ease.
Bought the other day in this shop
Just around the corner
I can´t recall the owner
But that day I took a walk,
And while deciding which direction I should take
I remembered putting new plants on my shelves.
However, these three pots, I thought to use them better,
For strawberries perhaps, or bigger,
The kind of berries wouldn´t really matter
And so I went down the street, a little further.
I found the discount plant-shop, very modest,
I had little expectations, to be honest,
But in my surprise-the choice quite wide
Strawberry-plants immediately caught my eyes.
They must be few weeks old by now
Colour getting red, but still don´t know how
I should eat them, if with cream?
Maybe just like that, they sure are very sweet.
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
hey, Pasta!
what are you doing here??
you should be celebrating your birthday right now,
having a huge party or something!
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
i had to come to work for the party here
i'll have one later at home, lol
three good friends and too much drink, i'm sure
and there are forceful personae constructed
in monolithic slabs of song, that would catch
in the throat like jagged concrete as you tried
to chew on them. But your words, however, are like
those strawberries you write about; they might
make a person shiver on the first taste with their
powerful rush of pulp on the quivering tongue
but then they work slowly, deliciously,
pleasing the senses thoroughly, because
really
they're
rather
beautiful
Probably like the person who wrote them,
One or two of us confer,
But then, we're just guessing.
damn, i thought it was fifteen
and in its contradiction of response,
Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
That might suggest true movement. If you sense
a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
The willows nod and rustle, and you will
hear the rushing babble of the free
gush of water, brimming, charged with light
That is your reader's understanding heart.
Exhale's a radical! Here's to the new tradition of public festivity!