Between Cohen and Lorca,
There's a place at the table
For love songs and sorrows.
Between Cohen and Lorca
Dance a cage of free sparrows,
Write the lines of a fable.
Between Cohen and Lorca,
There's a place at the table.
Love this!
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National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Hi Folks,
I wish I had time to respond to everyone's kind words and to comment and give the accolades you all deserve but we are packing up a household so it's all I can do to get a poem in. I haven't even had time to savor everything but I am looking forward to it. I hope we can keep these up in the archives for more than a month. I am honored to be on the same board with such talent and eloquence.
I spent way too much time on the following silliness but it was fun.
~Deb
The Literal Child
Let’s go on a journey into the mind of a precocious child
with an imagination of word notions skipping free and wild.
If a man is an actor and a woman an actress
then why do grownups look alarmed
when she pauses to profess,
“I want to grow up and be an adulteress!”?
You may see Sir ip slipping down
Pancakes or Cinderella’s gown.
A honey moon is made by bees
sewn inside a buzzing hiding place
within the swaying trees.
Why doesn’t the shoe horn honk on Daddy’s shoes
when she dances on his heels?
Where does that toe-truck go when she stubs her little toe?
Do toe-trucks get flat tires or have Big Wheels?
Culottes, pronounced cool locks, is a girl with pretty hair.
A hypocrite an old woman who hates hip huggers that flair.
A cucumber, or cue comer is just some silly man
who comes over to play pool and drink her uncle’s beer.
Guerilla warfare in the summer, apes say, “Catch me if you can.”
They’re the real gorillas on the news in man masks and headgear.
A bald eagle is a poor, old bird
with no feathers on his head.
And babysitters sit on babies
until they’re almost dead.
Pressurizers are teachers that press eyeballs
shut on little kids that always talk.
Cowlicks are caused by cow licks
and we all know the moon can’t walk.
Apparently, is a parent named, Lee.
There’s no need to explain, explain
because it's plain to see.
Portray was the cafeteria food the poor kids got
that she hoped she’d never get.
But if she ever got one, she would not throw a fit
A comment is supposed to be a mint
that calms you down
except when taken by the grumpy grocer,
then it’s the other way around.
To translate means you were lost along the way
and that’s the reason why you’re late,
but now you know and it’s okay.
An eyesore is probably a sty.
And a detailer takes off tails
but she hasn’t reasoned why.
A body shop is where people go for casts and stitches.
A picnic on the beach is where you’ll likely find sand witches.
Perfume is the smell a cat makes when it purrs as it whispers.
Antagonize is the agonizing aunt with sharp chin whiskers.
Now her play time's over, she must get back to her chores
to sweat out all these goofy rhymes and cleans them from her pours.
~Deb
I wish I had time to respond to everyone's kind words and to comment and give the accolades you all deserve but we are packing up a household so it's all I can do to get a poem in. I haven't even had time to savor everything but I am looking forward to it. I hope we can keep these up in the archives for more than a month. I am honored to be on the same board with such talent and eloquence.
I spent way too much time on the following silliness but it was fun.
~Deb
The Literal Child
Let’s go on a journey into the mind of a precocious child
with an imagination of word notions skipping free and wild.
If a man is an actor and a woman an actress
then why do grownups look alarmed
when she pauses to profess,
“I want to grow up and be an adulteress!”?
You may see Sir ip slipping down
Pancakes or Cinderella’s gown.
A honey moon is made by bees
sewn inside a buzzing hiding place
within the swaying trees.
Why doesn’t the shoe horn honk on Daddy’s shoes
when she dances on his heels?
Where does that toe-truck go when she stubs her little toe?
Do toe-trucks get flat tires or have Big Wheels?
Culottes, pronounced cool locks, is a girl with pretty hair.
A hypocrite an old woman who hates hip huggers that flair.
A cucumber, or cue comer is just some silly man
who comes over to play pool and drink her uncle’s beer.
Guerilla warfare in the summer, apes say, “Catch me if you can.”
They’re the real gorillas on the news in man masks and headgear.
A bald eagle is a poor, old bird
with no feathers on his head.
And babysitters sit on babies
until they’re almost dead.
Pressurizers are teachers that press eyeballs
shut on little kids that always talk.
Cowlicks are caused by cow licks
and we all know the moon can’t walk.
Apparently, is a parent named, Lee.
There’s no need to explain, explain
because it's plain to see.
Portray was the cafeteria food the poor kids got
that she hoped she’d never get.
But if she ever got one, she would not throw a fit
A comment is supposed to be a mint
that calms you down
except when taken by the grumpy grocer,
then it’s the other way around.
To translate means you were lost along the way
and that’s the reason why you’re late,
but now you know and it’s okay.
An eyesore is probably a sty.
And a detailer takes off tails
but she hasn’t reasoned why.
A body shop is where people go for casts and stitches.
A picnic on the beach is where you’ll likely find sand witches.
Perfume is the smell a cat makes when it purrs as it whispers.
Antagonize is the agonizing aunt with sharp chin whiskers.
Now her play time's over, she must get back to her chores
to sweat out all these goofy rhymes and cleans them from her pours.
~Deb
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
30 ways to die.
#24
Heaven's above and
Hell is below, waiting
to absorb us,
but which way is down?
My feet aren't sure,
as the Earth rotates
Hell's location alters.
They say there's little
separating my pinkies
and eternal torment.
There have been times
I've wished the ground
would open
and swallow me up...or
is that down?
Standing on stage
microphone in hand
as my lines
dissolve into the ether.
I've 'died' many times, but
fewer as time goes on,
I'm getting better.
There'll be no dress rehearsal
for the real one
but I won't mind
it'll almost be like
meeting
an old friend.
#24
Heaven's above and
Hell is below, waiting
to absorb us,
but which way is down?
My feet aren't sure,
as the Earth rotates
Hell's location alters.
They say there's little
separating my pinkies
and eternal torment.
There have been times
I've wished the ground
would open
and swallow me up...or
is that down?
Standing on stage
microphone in hand
as my lines
dissolve into the ether.
I've 'died' many times, but
fewer as time goes on,
I'm getting better.
There'll be no dress rehearsal
for the real one
but I won't mind
it'll almost be like
meeting
an old friend.
-
Vaughn Neeld
- Posts: 915
- Joined: Mon Apr 01, 2019 10:50 am
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
indar wrote: ↑Tue Apr 23, 2019 10:39 amApril 23
Sky Creatures
We are a particular group of humans,
those of us who dream of flying.
Our methods vary, some flap arms,
others ascend by force of will.
In real life we love mountains--
the ones with a view
all the way to the ocean,
we stand on the edges of canyons
and never miss a roadside look-out.
Some analysts say
such dreams and callings mean
an inflated sense of self importance--
what do they know?
I hold that either we were birds
in previous incarnations
or
we know where we're going.
Oh, Yes!!! I no longer have flying dreams, but except for trying to avoid the power lines, I loved the feel of flying. I believe such dreams reflect our desire to rise above the mundane and escape into the fantasy that only imagination can provide.
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
April 24
Men in glen plaid suits
do not shine their own shoes,
they live monochromatic lives,
they hurt my astigmatic eyes.
( I admit it's not the best thing I've ever written
)
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
NAPO 24 - 2019
Fragile seedlings
I deftly dissected a sweet red pepper
as part of my lunch,
binned most of the seeds,
but planted a few in a plastic tray
left over from a microwave curry.
Three weeks later I thought I'd failed,
or been hit by the Monsanto Curse
where many plants are single-use
and their plentiful GM seeds are sterile.
A month later they've suddenly arrived,
almost overnight,
a couple of dozen fragile plants
curling up through the compost.
When they're a bit bigger,
the stems more sturdy,
tough enough to transplant,
they can have a pot each
and migrate outside
to my mini greenhouse.
But one or two can stay,
adding colour to the windowsill.
Gyppo
Fragile seedlings
I deftly dissected a sweet red pepper
as part of my lunch,
binned most of the seeds,
but planted a few in a plastic tray
left over from a microwave curry.
Three weeks later I thought I'd failed,
or been hit by the Monsanto Curse
where many plants are single-use
and their plentiful GM seeds are sterile.
A month later they've suddenly arrived,
almost overnight,
a couple of dozen fragile plants
curling up through the compost.
When they're a bit bigger,
the stems more sturdy,
tough enough to transplant,
they can have a pot each
and migrate outside
to my mini greenhouse.
But one or two can stay,
adding colour to the windowsill.
Gyppo
I've been writing ever since I realised I could. Storytelling since I started talking. Poetry however comes and goes 
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
All the poems on this page are gems, really enjoyed each and every one of them for their skillful writing and their insights.
Dave
Dave
Re: National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!
Deb's 'Literal Child', a mindset or quirk probably shared with most poets and writers, brings to mind so many parallels in my own life.
Words aren't just functional tokens of exchange to us but something precious in their own right. We hoard them, cosset them, and sometimes treat a favourite almost as a pet for a while. Often because we fall in love with the sound rather than the purpose.
We dissect them, and love finding other words or potential meanings inside them, which we sometimes, like Professor Frankenstein, stitch back together in a different way, 'just to see how it works', with a different emphasis.
Quite a few people are prone to accidental malapropisms or Spoonerisms, but with a writer they may well be quite deliberate, carefully hoarded until a suitable opportunity arises for the twisted word to 'strut its stuff, or even 'stuff its strut' if being used to describe a well known theatrical womaniser.
A writer in solitary confinement may well go mad, but he/she will never be bored.
Gyppo
Words aren't just functional tokens of exchange to us but something precious in their own right. We hoard them, cosset them, and sometimes treat a favourite almost as a pet for a while. Often because we fall in love with the sound rather than the purpose.
We dissect them, and love finding other words or potential meanings inside them, which we sometimes, like Professor Frankenstein, stitch back together in a different way, 'just to see how it works', with a different emphasis.
Quite a few people are prone to accidental malapropisms or Spoonerisms, but with a writer they may well be quite deliberate, carefully hoarded until a suitable opportunity arises for the twisted word to 'strut its stuff, or even 'stuff its strut' if being used to describe a well known theatrical womaniser.
A writer in solitary confinement may well go mad, but he/she will never be bored.
Gyppo
I've been writing ever since I realised I could. Storytelling since I started talking. Poetry however comes and goes