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Post by wolfbear on Sept 6, 2019 3:22:40 GMT
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 8, 2019 4:23:37 GMT
Well here goes for poem #1. I know it's lame to say, but feel free to critique in any way you like,good or bad,as its all part of the fun of writing and sharing. In my opinion,if you can't take the bad along with the good then why are are bothering sharing it? And if your not going to share it, why are you writing it? So i hope you enjoy, whatever your take. Most of these poems are from long ago, but I still like them.
Southern Plague
The girl – she wept. Her brother slept. The dog, it simply whined. The mother's dead. The father's drunk. The suns eye has turned blind. The flocks run wild. The airs blow mild, but stale with stench of rot. The rivers boil. The willows coil. The geese fall but remain unshot
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Post by wolf on Sept 8, 2019 5:00:22 GMT
Well here goes for poem #1. I know it's lame to say, but feel free to critique in any way you like,good or bad,as its all part of the fun of writing and sharing. In my opinion,if you can't take the bad along with the good then why are are bothering sharing it? And if your not going to share it, why are you writing it? So i hope you enjoy, whatever your take. Most of these poems are from long ago, but I still like them. Southern Plague The girl – she wept. Her brother slept. The dog, it simply whined. The mother's dead. The father's drunk. The suns eye has turned blind. The flocks run wild. The airs blow mild, but stale with stench of rot. The rivers boil. The willows coil. The geese fall but remain unshot That is awesome Wolf Bear, simple, succinct and sweet with a sorrowful passion to it. I like it.
...and I do agree with your statement above the poem.
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 8, 2019 6:31:45 GMT
Well here goes for poem #1. I know it's lame to say, but feel free to critique in any way you like,good or bad,as its all part of the fun of writing and sharing. In my opinion,if you can't take the bad along with the good then why are are bothering sharing it? And if your not going to share it, why are you writing it? So i hope you enjoy, whatever your take. Most of these poems are from long ago, but I still like them. Southern Plague The girl – she wept. Her brother slept. The dog, it simply whined. The mother's dead. The father's drunk. The suns eye has turned blind. The flocks run wild. The airs blow mild, but stale with stench of rot. The rivers boil. The willows coil. The geese fall but remain unshot That is awesome Wolf Bear, simple, succinct and sweet with a sorrowful passion to it. I like it.
...and I do agree with your statement above the poem.
Thank you wolf
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Post by wolf on Sept 8, 2019 10:50:01 GMT
That is awesome Wolf Bear, simple, succinct and sweet with a sorrowful passion to it. I like it.
...and I do agree with your statement above the poem.
Thank you wolf You're welcome
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Post by wolf on Sept 9, 2019 15:35:53 GMT
got something kinda cool to bring when i get the laptop again. tv remoting 2day.....grrrrrr
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Post by wolf on Sept 10, 2019 14:12:22 GMT
Hola. For those who know me, I'm prufrock21 from the SKMB. For those who don't, I'm also prufrock21 from the SKMB. This is my first post in (on) The Playground, so please bear with me. Just wanted to inform you I have four new poems which appear online @ redriverreview.com. If interested, just scroll once on the site until you see my name, Martin A. Ramos. One of the poems has a religious theme, by the way. In the event you're a believer, and even if you're not. Thanks for listening. Hey Prufrock, please give us a heads up when you have more writing available for us to read.
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Post by wolf on Sept 10, 2019 18:23:20 GMT
This is just for fun and for everyone. ( and now for spideyman especially too, for the Lady's Birthday ) Had a few notes for some verses, cleaned them up and added to them, and turned it into this poem. Merely thinking of all things from the good author, King, and putting my strange imagination to a little bit of usefulness, lol.
"Christine Unbound"
Christine. New again, ever pristine. Once confoundedly foiled, tortured and spoiled. Now by Justice lifted up, re-erected. Forth she ventures, gloriously, furiously resurrected.
Fearlessly determined, ever bold. Coursing mightily, fierily down highways and byways new and old. With just vengence, Aether bent, on a speedy true avengence.
Under the Delco's rythmic thrumming and humming, idols idle is purring and whirring. Gears ashifting, neutral to drive, jumpstarting now, fully alive.
In the bright Lunes lustrous illumes, hubcaps shining and spinning. Bright eyed lights beaming and gleaming. Silver chrome grill whitely grinning. Asphalt gray, ferocious wheels greeting, exciting roads long white line hungrily eating.
Christine, the lovely and pristine, steely wheeled, even steelier willed. Relentless, with love eternally filled. Clean fresh scents- oil and gasoline, the god's undying goddess machine. With heady aromatic new leather, she calls the passenger driver, "....oh lover, come hither...." Walter resonates with 'Magnet and Steel', Henry Leydon says, "Now that's a tune to make you feel!" Robert reverberates with his "Big (travel) Log", and the two lovers true, drive steadily out of the fog....
And THERE! Just right ahead there! Before them, it is the Thinny, "....shhh, hold on now darling, we're about to go skinny, to shimmery shimmy on through there yon Thinny." she whispered with a glowing grinny. Hers a voice so kind, (heard deep in his welcoming open mind) at which he happily smiled. He, so enthralled and sweetly beguiled.
".....let's go see how Roland is doing..." soothingly wooing, she sighs to him low, as on through yon Thinny they go. "Roland's not dead, he just went home. It was written long ago in an ancient tome. He just went home instead, it has been properly said, long ago before there was any Gilead."
In the wild blue beyond yonder, Henry and his Lark listen on with delight. "...clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right..." says Gerry of the Stealers Wheels, and her motor gleefully squeals, "Once on the otherside of the Thinny, darling keep careful watch for any stray Heathen Chinny...."
No sooner said than done, he saw the very first one! Wise a§§ Penny dreadful, does the rider driver spy, out of the corner of his searching eye. She just snarled her contempt as they went him by. Passenger driver rider smirked. The clown to his left, disappeared, vexed and irked, of malicious mirth woefully bereft.
Radio rocks gently on, driver lover softly sings along. Serenading his Christine so fine, "...woman, it's been you...right down the line..." He is all the while, thinking with a content smile, "Deadlights ain't got nuthin' on my baby's headlights.".......(More to come)
-Wolf
There is more, I will finish it in the next post. Sorry, I got to go for now. I hope you like it so far, and I do apologize for taking such liberties with the King's characters.
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Post by wolf on Sept 10, 2019 21:26:30 GMT
Here is the 2nd and last part of "Christine Unbound" :
....."Deadlights, ain't got nuthin' on my baby's headlights."
Carrying on further, now by passing, more of roadsides lush green grassing. Deep in the cool heat of night, suddenly a joker is to their right. Quick sharp scathing glance, long and fast as a stabbing lance, accompanies a gutteral growl, that shades and shames a Walkin' Dude on the prowl.
With friendly wave and winning grin, Flagg loudly declares with much chagrin, "Ho lady! Not tonight, with you so new, bright with might, I desire no lengthy losing fight." Licking lips and casting leers, he too, into the corn... disappears. His ears, her blaring horn, blasts and sears.
Henry puts another record on to play, swiftly thinks up something fairly cool to say, "This one's coming from Floyd the Pink, boy, I tell you constant listeners, I love the way those boys sing and ink!"
"Welcome to Machine!" Then there is Alexis, coming on like a screaming demon dream. Then be heard her roaring furor. Like a shot, drivers eyes to the rearview mirror, to his amaze and surprise, he met her gaze, those steel gray eyes. In her captivating stare, tornado Toronado's high beams glare. Woe to coarse Alexis Machine, for trying to catch the wiley Christine.
Slowed her high paced roll, staying ever in complete control. Alexis Machine, tail gate hounding, dead set on a rear end pounding. Pumped her brakes, gave the hightoned 'b!tch the shakes.
Rider driver laughed, "Now you let go that Alexis. That Olds' too cool a ride to waste, I rather wreck up a Lexus." Christine just purrs and whirrs, continues to accelerate, and on they go, through the Territories gate. Journeying on their new unending date.
-Wolf
That's it. I know it's not very good, but I sure had fun dreaming it up. Thanks for reading.
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 12, 2019 10:39:03 GMT
Dang, that was a super fun read! Thanks for sharing that - it isn't bad at all (and trust me, there is poetry that is soooooo much worse, whose authors take themselves way too seriously.) It is great that you had fun writing this. I hope you dream up some more poetry to share with us!!!
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 12, 2019 11:07:02 GMT
The Dread of Dartha
The banished faces shiver
as the shadows spill over the walls of Dartha.
Her stone lay surface effuses cold
in the guise of mist, a lake of coolness
within her hidden heart.
And though the moon, full and silver,
stares upon her silent anger
the dread of her own blinds her.
Within the gates of Dartha,
the whispers, still and mournful,
reverberate on into waves of echoes;
words, like the sound of footfalls,
misleading the listener, from where the sounds do come,
for the eye does not see what the ear does hear,
form enchanting paths and visions
for those who dare to stare
into the fear of Dartha.
And yet the faithfull one's will enter,
the gates that screech like a hollow force,
ignoring the sound, the visions of self imposed truths,
for here is where one's thoughts are heard,
one's feelings felt as a mantle spirit,
that is the wind that blows upon the face of Dartha.
And he will see, through faith and knowledge,
his own apparition, screaming the howl
of a bitch in labor,
birthing her very self,
from the inside to the out.
And dread pervades this unending process,
the beating heart, each pulse born from the pulse before,
giving forth its roar
in the form of blood,
bearing the weight of flesh,
where no flesh, nor blood,
can perceive –
within the walls of Dartha.
And there with this truth of self deception,
he himself is birthed anew,
like a corpse that was risen
beneath the upturned mountain,
where the sounds were seen, and the sights were heard,
and the dread of Dartha
spreads throughout his being.
His heart, a fountain of pure water,
a spring of freedom from the blindness of desire,
a stream that leads
beyond her endarkened shadows.
The glory of G-d reveals herself,
and love, the full and silver moon,
throws her light into the breast of Dartha,
and he, a babe suckling from his mothers heart,
becomes,
his heart, like silver
beating love beyond the walls of Dartha,
the shadow dissipating,
mist in the late morning sun,
revealing what was hidden beneath her dread –
the joy of G-d eternal,
and behold –
whereat are the walls of Dartha.
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Post by wolf on Sept 12, 2019 16:07:09 GMT
That, wolfbear , is a most beautiful powerful poem. Moving. It really is tremendous, I love that.
Dire Sappho the saturnine poetess, surely be impressed and intrigued with talent such as yours. She smiles that slight, intrigued Mona Lisa smile.
Artemis' ears pr1ck up, standing alert paying rapt attention, instinctively fingering her bow, as if scratching an itch not quite yet felt, listening, wanting to know more.
Athene, justice and wisdom incarnate, smiles broadly with knowing understanding and nods her approval.
Erato the muse and loving Aphrodite swoon, together hugging close. Their souls having been spoken to, they also smile through the soft tears they shed.
The hearth of Hestia's warm heart dwindles and cools then suddenly bursts with anew high flames.
Even haughty, strident Hera has been made calm quiet and contemplative. Discordant, vile hearted Eris beside her, is hushed, recognizing the depth of the formidable.
Demeter's heart and mind is touched too, she sighs. Her mood set, she rises to go visit daughter Persephone. Inspired to help her tend her lovely deep dark lush gardens of Tartarus.
Well, you certainly inspired me to come out with that off the top of my head. Thank you so much for your very generous praise of my fun poem. I do appreciate it. Very kind of you. BTW I have a thread on the SKMB titled "Tet-mates Writing Creatively" Mrs.Smeej has posted a couple of her poems there. I think I have something else in my notes that I can bring here, something I couldn't post there, because of the rules. It is a thread I started awhile back for fun, but there's other things that get put there too. Take a look sometime.....if it pleases thee to do so, good sir.
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Post by wolf on Sept 12, 2019 16:52:14 GMT
On "Arnie and Christine" :
May 23,2019 ......I like cars. I like Rock and Roll BlockParty Weekends on classic FM radio. I like strange love stories and adventures. I like Underdogs being avenged a thousand fold. I like heroes accomplishing herculean tasks and being rewarded with their Just wages. And I like a**h***s getting exactly what they deserve. "Christine" is one of my all time favorite Stephen King novels, sure would love to see another one, or two books, making it a trilogy. Im sure that probably won't happen, but its nice to think about it
I wrote that back on the SKMB in the thread "His neverending fury?", Mr. King's novel Christine is one of the first of his books I ever read and it is one of my favorites.
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 12, 2019 17:04:37 GMT
That, wolfbear , is a most beautiful powerful poem. Moving. It really is tremendous, I love that.
Dire Sappho the saturnine poetess, surely be impressed and intrigued with talent such as yours. She smiles that slight, intrigued Mona Lisa smile.
Artemis' ears pr1ck up, standing alert paying rapt attention, instinctively fingering her bow, as if scratching an itch not quite yet felt, listening, wanting to know more.
Athene, justice and wisdom incarnate, smiles broadly with knowing understanding and nods her approval.
Erato the muse and loving Aphrodite swoon, together hugging close. Their souls having been spoken to, they also smile through the soft tears they shed.
The hearth of Hestia's warm heart dwindles and cools then suddenly bursts with anew high flames.
Even haughty, strident Hera has been made calm quiet and contemplative. Discordant, vile hearted Eris beside her, is hushed, recognizing the depth of the formidable.
Demeter's heart and mind is touched too, she sighs. Her mood set, she rises to go visit daughter Persephone. Inspired to help her tend her lovely deep dark lush gardens of Tartarus.
Well, you certainly inspired me to come out with that off the top of my head. Thank you so much for your very generous praise of my fun poem. I do appreciate it. Very kind of you. BTW I have a thread on the SKMB titled "Tet-mates Writing Creatively" Mrs.Smeej has posted a couple of her poems there. I think I have something else in my notes that I can bring here, something I couldn't post there, because of the rules. It is a thread I started awhile back for fun, but there's other things that get put there too. Take a look sometime.....if it pleases thee to do so, good sir.
A few things: 1. Don't you dare stop writing this stuff 2. Impressive how you knocked out all those greek references off the top of your head - no way i could do that 3. I am so happy you enjoyed my poem. 4. What are these rules you speak of,and why could mrs smeej (should I know who that is?) post her stuff there,but not you?
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Post by wolf on Sept 12, 2019 17:35:56 GMT
That, wolfbear , is a most beautiful powerful poem. Moving. It really is tremendous, I love that.
Dire Sappho the saturnine poetess, surely be impressed and intrigued with talent such as yours. She smiles that slight, intrigued Mona Lisa smile.
Artemis' ears pr1ck up, standing alert paying rapt attention, instinctively fingering her bow, as if scratching an itch not quite yet felt, listening, wanting to know more.
Athene, justice and wisdom incarnate, smiles broadly with knowing understanding and nods her approval.
Erato the muse and loving Aphrodite swoon, together hugging close. Their souls having been spoken to, they also smile through the soft tears they shed.
The hearth of Hestia's warm heart dwindles and cools then suddenly bursts with anew high flames.
Even haughty, strident Hera has been made calm quiet and contemplative. Discordant, vile hearted Eris beside her, is hushed, recognizing the depth of the formidable.
Demeter's heart and mind is touched too, she sighs. Her mood set, she rises to go visit daughter Persephone. Inspired to help her tend her lovely deep dark lush gardens of Tartarus.
Well, you certainly inspired me to come out with that off the top of my head. Thank you so much for your very generous praise of my fun poem. I do appreciate it. Very kind of you. BTW I have a thread on the SKMB titled "Tet-mates Writing Creatively" Mrs.Smeej has posted a couple of her poems there. I think I have something else in my notes that I can bring here, something I couldn't post there, because of the rules. It is a thread I started awhile back for fun, but there's other things that get put there too. Take a look sometime.....if it pleases thee to do so, good sir.
A few things: 1. Don't you dare stop writing this stuff -----as you wish. 2. Impressive how you knocked out all those greek references off the top of your head - no way i could do that ------Thank you! I am quite familiar with Greek mythology...I have been in love with it all since I was a kid.3. I am so happy you enjoyed my poem. ------I really did! And could only express how much by using the goddesses and muses to describe exactly what I felt.4. What are these rules you speak of,and why could mrs smeej (should I know who that is?) post her stuff there,but not you? ----No original writing allowed there, Mr.Kings lawyers insist on that to protect him. BUT we can post "memories or recollections" in very creative ways there. Mrs.Smeej is an SKMB member, she is a very nice person and I admire her work and how she deftly incorporates current (and past) events, along with her sentiments into her rhymes. What she does over there doesn't break the rules. I hope that answers your questions.
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 12, 2019 17:56:28 GMT
A few things: 1. Don't you dare stop writing this stuff -----as you wish. 2. Impressive how you knocked out all those greek references off the top of your head - no way i could do that ------Thank you! I am quite familiar with Greek mythology...I have been in love with it all since I was a kid.3. I am so happy you enjoyed my poem. ------I really did! And could only express how much by using the goddesses and muses to describe exactly what I felt.4. What are these rules you speak of,and why could mrs smeej (should I know who that is?) post her stuff there,but not you? ----No original writing allowed there, Mr.Kings lawyers insist on that to protect him. BUT we can post "memories or recollections" in very creative ways there. Mrs.Smeej is an SKMB member, she is a very nice person and I admire her work and how she deftly incorporates current (and past) events, along with her sentiments into her rhymes. What she does over there doesn't break the rules. I hope that answers your questions. Thanks, i will check that thread out. And i hope i don't break any rules, bwahahaha! Just kidding. I really will try to behave.
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Post by wolf on Sept 12, 2019 17:59:17 GMT
Thanks, i will check that thread out. And i hope i don't break any rules, bwahahaha! Just kidding. I really will try to behave. Lol, me too.
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Post by wolf on Sept 13, 2019 2:08:31 GMT
On "Arnie and Christine" :
May 23,2019 ......I like cars. I like Rock and Roll BlockParty Weekends on classic FM radio. I like strange love stories and adventures. I like Underdogs being avenged a thousand fold. I like heroes accomplishing herculean tasks and being rewarded with their Just wages. And I like a**h***s getting exactly what they deserve. "Christine" is one of my all time favorite Stephen King novels, sure would love to see another one, or two books, making it a trilogy. Im sure that probably won't happen, but its nice to think about it
I wrote that back on the SKMB in the thread "His neverending fury?", Mr. King's novel Christine is one of the first of his books I ever read and it is one of my favorites. Hey morgan, on this page I have a sort of 'continuation' poem of that post I made about the 'Block Party Weekend and Henry Leydon' in the theme song thread, check it out. You might get a kick out of it. I hope so at least. Just look out for the 'Christine red font' to find it, lol.
More importantly, check out Wolf Bear's and Prufrock's works. I think they are both exceptional poets. Captivating work with great imagery. I like the shorter poems very much, (they express so much, with so little, outstandingly) but Wolf Bears long narrative is .......it just leaves you almost speechless.
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Post by wolf on Sept 13, 2019 17:48:01 GMT
Here's a littler poem I did for the kids. It's a version of the one that got deleted on the SKMB. I used my skeletal notes to reconstruct it.
"It's All In The Oats and The Hearts Of Horses"
Wild ponies that eat good oats, come down the mud sod rooves, playing among the willful little goats, with clicker clacks of pearly hooves.
Lively soulful eyes aflickering, strutting, clacking and clickering, dancing and prancing, under the sun's bright loving shine, under the sun that is so sublime.
Snicker nickering, playful bickering.
Good ponies that eat wild oats, with stamping hooves chase away the slippery ravenous stoats, from where the yard birds lay.
Triumphantly snorting, dancing and cavorting, under the moon ever sublime, under the moon's ever loving night shine.
- Wolf
That was inspired by my little boy when he was in 2nd grade. It could be better too, it clunks in places I think.
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Post by wolfbear on Sept 14, 2019 17:37:26 GMT
Here's a littler poem I did for the kids. It's a version of the one that got deleted on the SKMB. I used my skeletal notes to reconstruct it.
"It's All In The Oats and The Hearts Of Horses"
Wild ponies that eat good oats, come down the mud sod rooves, playing among the willful little goats, with clicker clacks of pearly hooves.
Lively soulful eyes aflickering, strutting, clacking and clickering, dancing and prancing, under the sun's bright loving shine, under the sun that is so sublime.
Snicker nickering, playful bickering.
Good ponies that eat wild oats, with stamping hooves chase away the slippery ravenous stoats, from where the yard birds lay.
Triumphantly snorting, dancing and cavorting, under the moon ever sublime, under the moon's ever loving night shine.
- Wolf
That was inspired by my little boy when he was in 2nd grade. It could be better too, it clunks in places I think. 😁
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