When I sit and watch the surf.....................

the other method is to build the poem using -----
smoke signals, semaphore & immaculate guess work.


next week we are going build a new housing estate on the quicksands of Morecome Bay.

OAK, you forgot morse code and pony express.

Hmmmm. I had thought about the Everglades in Florida.

letty,,,,,,,,,,,you've a choice ------ fast death alla alligators
slow death alla quicksand.
you could use those 2 lines to start the next double act

That's a choice?

Ok...morse code:

did a da dit
dot a da dot dot.

Translation:

Alligators, they're a crock,
What you see is what you're not.

Pony express:

galloping, galloping, galloping, galloping

Translation:

Damn, I wish that I had used FedEx.
This quicksand is a headache

Glub!

quicksand = military band

...the marching band refused to yield.

and now a co-op from a pen pal:

Before I go...........

Murmurs from a heart whose depths you know,
Will rise to cataclysmic din if you should go!

In leaving we arrive at open portals,
In sweet diffusion of the acrid mortals
Whose tiny respite in the warp of things,
Still looks for hope; still hears the silent rings
of eternity.

by To and Flo

checking in to read and ponder

Soaring as the eagle; condor,
Predators but beauty lifting
Cross the azure sky are drifting

well, sometimes things work, and sometimes they don't.

We cannot define a nation by one person, and we cannot define a person by a nation.

I don't give up, but I give in............................................

Okay, read through the entire thread. I love the idea of the poetic experiment, and I will offer my meagre service to another poem, if Letty wants. As interesting as it was, the first poem did lack a certain focus, i.e. the lost or tortured souls. It would have been stronger had it focused on say, an individual lost soul, expounding on the experience of his death and life of purgatory through his or hers own eyes. I really did enjoy the second poem Letty posted.

Soon, Letty, you and OAK will have to take your act on the road. The improvement is noticeable.

Now I'm waiting for one from McTag and the partner of his choosing.

Oh, and Cav and his partner in poetry.

focus, Cav? Bof us?

Diane, I'm afraid that cockney Brit is gone.

McTag is busy preparing for guests,
And we can just surmise the rest.

As for To, he quietly gives and asks no thanks
Just living, is.

And for young Dys and cowboy boots,
Denver speaks; All hell breaks loose.

Goodnight, my friends.
From one who still holds on to a rose, but one who prefers a lady slipper.

Sweet dreams, Lady Rose or Lady Slipper
Of oceans, gardens and enchanted lands
All your dreams come from the Big Dipper
And fall like stars on moonlit sands.

Oh my, Letty, I meant Focus, that band who did Hocus Pocus, famous prog rock hit with yodelling.

Diane, That was fantastic! Thank you.

Ah, Cav. I'm afraid that I did not pick up on your allusion since I am not familiar with the group, Focus.

Having a brunch today,
Country fare.
And knowing how "weigh leads to way..."
My tummy says,
"You don't care."
And I don't.

"Focus was a Dutch progressive rock band of the 1970s. It was founded by classically trained organist/flutist Thijs van Leer in 1969 and leaned heavily on two of the Netherlands' contemporary music's heavyweights, Thijs van Leer and Jan Akkerman.

Guitarist Jan Akkerman joined the band in 1970. In 1971 the group released their second album, Moving Waves, which received international acclaim.

The band's biggest international hits were the guitar-based instrumentals "Sylvia" and "Hocus Pocus" (The title may have been a deliberate joke on DJs: "That was Hocus Pocus by Focus"). The latter also featured some eccentric vocalisations.

The musical egos of Van Leer and Akkerman proved incompatible. In 1976 Jan Akkerman left the band, which finally dissolved in 1978."

So, as they haven't a hit since then, I would consider them lost and tortured souls.

It's a delight to read this thread.

It's absolutely amazing that you should mention those washed-outs; I met Thijs van Leer at a party in Perpignan, about five years' ago. I did not know who he was, but he took pains to tell me. He was not the nicest person in the world at all!

Our boat, a needle in the vast Electric--
In some wild, dawn-misted trance--
Sped and thread through tired, engulfing blue,
Whilst waves wove deep silence:

Rising and crackling like harsh static;
Guilessly prancing to old Loss's tune.

More Drom, lovely!!

echoing Diane, drom. Are those the lyrics of Focus, or Drom's dream?

Good morning

From Florida.