theollady
theollady, with your sense of humor, I thought you might enjoy the poems written by my witty friend Mary Anderson. They start and continue for several pages here.---BBB
http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=1332&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=660&sid=de0c89b0929bd2547656f81d0e6a8688
Thanks BBB,
I read some of them once- I am reading them now in more depth.
the paw and the thorn
dare you be
the sword within the wound
and the pain
felt as one as you twist the sword
if you die before you live
that last one goes into the workbook. i am still struggling with the form and concept.
jackie wrote:AAHHhhhhhh coffee.
What's the brew you are having, colorbook?
Three shots of Starbuck's pure expresso in every cup.
Great poetry everyone!
A winding clock
wound 'round the sun
to find the way that life begun
It struck the hour
and gave a sigh
too hard to think
and wonder why
Another goodie, colorbook. I am once again experiencing pc problems. Will be online, but don't know how much. Computer has shut down arbitrarily three times this eve.
Still could possibly be a modem problem. You should call Compaq.
a briney sea
a billowy wave
and thee
to set sail
round the horn
tis well
my dear
tis well
hard on the lea
two swordfish bend for thee
forming a heart
a union theyll ner part
tis well
my dear
tis well
Very good Edgar, that's a keeper.
hi, colorbook. I solved my pc problem by purchasing a new one.
Thy shadow high upon a winding cliff
from out to sea I find thee there
awaiting me and so forlorn
ever I wander in my sailing ship
I won't ere come back to kiss thy lips
Hi Edgar, what kind did you buy?
I bought a EMachine, just like my wife's. So far so good.
Swiftly the leaves swirl
dancing like negroes
in the days of Twain
faster and faster
til
the winds die.
rattle down dusty roads
canvass water bags
mama stops digs her toes
grips a limb and snags
wild apples
1944 and 45
good years for little boys to be alive
california coast
to the orange groves
of lindsay migrant ghosts
family that roves
wild apples
Edgar
Edgar, the dusty road images are so vivid - wonderful!
I picked walnuts and tomatoes during WWII. It was hard work and I had walnut-stained hands for weeks after leaving the orchard.
BBB
I saw this poem again this week, and just wanted to share:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
By William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance of nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;
So long as men can breath or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
McT, with a little help from my friend W.S.
McTag, I love all Willie's sonnets.
The bard doth play his lute,
And sing to us from backward glances
Tragedys and romances,
Histories of ancient kings,
Soliloquies that make us glow,
Juliet and Romeo,
Hamlet on his parapet,
Caesar in his toga wet
With blood.
MacBeth who put an end to sleep
Rising up from out the deep.
A winter's day, today
A cold wind blew
And the foolhardy, or just hardy
Few who ventured out of doors
Walked quickly, declined to dally
And, wrapped well against the chill
Hastening towards their destination
Had a purposeful air
But through it all, the gleaming sunlight
And the clear skies gave notice
That summer's warmth would return
And folks smiled too, as if to say
That after spring, they would linger out of doors
And renew old acquaintances, valued friendships,
Neighbourliness.
