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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/22/2004 10:09:42 PM | Thanks for the welcome, GS. My Grandfather did some exploring at Cut Throat Gap early in the last century. His best friend, much later, was kin to Quanah. They were, and those that survive, plain ordinary Americans. Upon one tombstone is writ: Well done Good and faithful servant. And after much wildness that average, American old man indeed was...
WORDSMITH says :
soupcon or soupçon (soop-SON, SOOP-son) noun
A very small amount.
[From French soupçon (suspicion), via Middle French, Late Latin, from Latin
suspicere (to look from below, or suspect). Ultimately from Indo-European
root spek- (to observe) which is also the ancestor of such words as suspect,
spectrum, bishop (literally, overseer), espionage, despise, and telescope.]
Today's word in Visual Thesaurus: http://visualthesaurus.com/?w1=soupcon
"Couldn't Bob Levey and Jim Talens have a soupcon of sympathy for
the Costco Dad? Where was he supposed to go to change that
diaper?"
Bob Levey; Changing a Diaper on a Costco Conveyor Belt;
The Washington Post; Feb 6, 2003.
"Remember that white ruffled blouse you bought last spring? Wear it
under a pinstripe suit and you'll be right in step with the biggest
womenswear trend of the season: the menswear look with a soupcon of
femininity."
Pam Thomas; The Feel of Fall; The Providence Journal (Rhode Island);
Oct 6, 2002.
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/23/2004 5:11:07 AM | fighting with the wind...
darkness own dark...
it is morning yet dark
the wind speaks sharply
yet I refuse to don that sweater it demands
if I put on the sweater then it means summer is gone
to brave the wind..rebel against it means I get to keep the summer
the trees...are waving...their fronds... making faces with their branches
I think I watched too much H.R. Puffinstuff..
..the trees are alive and frighting... so dark...
expecting witchie poo or one of her cronies to appear any moment
There is one lone star... or maybe a planet..could even be a weather balloon...
did fall take away the light of morning...
now each day there will be less light...
I just didn't expect it so soon...
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/23/2004 7:45:38 AM | Sukari, Hi !
I think I watched too much H.R. Puffinstuff..
:-) GREAT CONTRAST !!! I laughed out loud ! Thank you. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/23/2004 8:43:06 PM | I got a spanking once for saying dang...we wernt' allowed to say shoot or darn or any of those things
my dad said if we made a place in our speech for curse words...then eventually they would replace those replacement words we had put there..... so I didnt put them there ...and I don't have them....
I think only once was I ever really impressed thinking that person really knows how to cuss..for the lady actually used the words true to their meaning and it had an impact...not just the constant repitition of the word of the week.... In high school I decided that cussing was just showing a lack of vocabulary..you know the kinds...those kids that every other word was the f word or some other four letter word.... and you could barely make out what they were trying to say.... I figure if a person is going to cuss they should at least use the words in context.....with their meanings...
sorry am just ranting and raving tonight....
I did enjoy the poem... memories... | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/23/2004 8:49:01 PM | Mr. Snows Pond...
walking through the pasture
dragging the old cane pole we cut from behind aunt renas house
trying to avoid bull nettlles...staying away from cactus
finally arriving to the shade of the circle of pine trees
surrounding the pond....
digging under the leaves for the nightcrawlers
putting them on the hook....
sitting on the bank...digging with your toes in the red mud
oops...am putting my shoes back on mom....
waiting.....but not too long...plenty of perch ready to bite
the little bobber going under... fish flying out with the jerk of the pole
a stringer full....
sharing a grape nehi and a honey bun
dragging it all back accross the pasture...
mama cooking up the fish
friend in cornmeal of course
fighting over who got to eat the crispy tails and fins
that is the best part you know....
when your five years old | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/23/2004 9:36:20 PM | I forgot about the crunchy bits of the ol' pan-fried trout until you mentioned it, Sukari.
Now I'll go to bed dreaming about them...nature's own Doritos...yum....
G'night, eh. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/24/2004 9:26:21 PM | Evening all. Running a little late here, so I'll get to it:
===========================
My Armpits -- A Love Story
My armpits smell like soup
Campbell’s Beef Vegetable Soup
Especially after the ride home
Sweaty from paperwork
And dodging the rat race
My feet smell like a cheese tray
Of semi-rotten gourmet treats
Laid out with putrific grace
Trapped in shoes all day
My too-long toenails yearn to be free
My hands look like claws
Far too rough for desk work
Used to having the earth around them
Ready for a shovel
Missing the digs in permafrost
Looking for bedrock
My ears are my eyes and
My nose is my ears
But my arse is my eyes
And my eyes are sore
My armpits are my moist, secret home
==============================
And if you thought that was bad, here's another. I have just enough gas in the tank for another, if you know what I mean:
============================
The paperboy never comes around here no more
Now that I answer the door naked
And suggesting
That he get his money
From my built-in coinslot
=================================
Think warm thoughts and I'll see ya'll tomorrow. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/24/2004 11:28:05 PM | women don't sweat you know...
they don't perspire either..
women... true southern belles...glisten
perhaps if the weather is hot outside..
truly hot...ya know above a hundred and five
one might possibly find a lady who would glow...
but sweat .....NEVER..... | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/25/2004 7:14:28 AM | the sound of raindrops on the roof...
constant steady.... rainy season rain...rain from a hurricane
is it thunder I hear
a train.... a tornado....or is it only one of many harleys
a weekend of wonder...headaches and walking on foot
sitting in waiting rooms..seeing results of the combinations of
rain harleys and brick streets...
why do people prefer not to wear helmets
ride without jeans
get up without skin... | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/25/2004 9:28:50 AM | Right back atcha, Divine Lady Zee. I'll be here, come heck or hot water.
So...while I'm here...let's see....what can I plunk down for this Saturday? A little mirth? Some crap? A little nonsense? Maybe all three:
============================
Lumpagus lumpagus lumpagus poo
What is this stuff stuck to my shoe
It collected with the morning dew
It resembles neither sneeze nor spew
Reminiscent of what is under a church pew
Or a fine childhood I once knew
Now whatever will I do
With this lumpagus lumpagus lumpagus poo
==============================
Sukari....bless your heart and thank you for the words. Those random thoughts gelled at the right moments. I wonder how things are down your way?
Well, I must duck and cover. Things to get done and others to start. I shall return. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/25/2004 3:10:51 PM | it is a good think you were going barefoot out in the dew...
I tend to walk barefoot on the beach... but I always wear my shoes on the way down to the beach
for fear of that dreaded lumpagus lumpagus lumpagus poo
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/26/2004 7:02:32 PM | Hello all. Had a little trouble getting logged in here for most of the day. Hope ya'll didn't worry too much about me -- I amused myself for the day. Man, was I amused.
This is one I wrote early this morning:
===============================
An Appreciation of Sunday
This is the day where time does not watch
A warm cup of coffee resting on my crotch
Pondering words, rhythms and beats
And various literate treats
The sun marches through a sky so blue
And I have very little to do
On this, the finest of days
After my breakfast of Frito-Lays
Later, I’ll prepare something more delicious
Packed with flavour and is nutritious
But, for now, the Doritos of zesty cheese
Plummet into my gullet and absolutely please
=================================
Yes, it was a good day. A very good day. Too bad Monday follows and so does a fine full week of papershuffling.
Tomorrow then. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/26/2004 8:56:57 PM | Does the frito bandito ever steal the doritos....or only the fritos..?
when i was in first grade I had a frito bandito eraser...it was yellow.. with his big sombrero
did you ever hear his song..on the advertisements?
Your Sunday sounds productive...relaxing ....giving to you all those things you needed from it...
feeding your mind your body and perhaps a little of your soul....
have a great Monday.... | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/27/2004 6:39:55 PM | Howdy. Here it is:
===========================
Walter’s End
It’s gotten larger, you know
It used to travel in a Ford
And now it’s eased into a BMW every morning
It used to be in Wal-Mart styles
And now tailored material covers its enormity
His wife used to follow it out to the curb
And now she sleeps in
Walter’s end keeps on increasing
As his paycheque grows
A Wendy’s bag is tucked between the seats
A new one every day
The onions and mayo are not held
And they increase the bottom line
============================
Sukari....I've never heard or seen anything about the frito bandito eraser. It sounds like something I would have appreciated...the song I mean...the eraser? Well...
Okey-dokey, back to your regular Monday night. Later, eh. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/27/2004 6:56:31 PM | was probably before you time...I used to hear the song as a kid...and sometime I guess you got a free eraser in a bag or with purchase or something...I think in 1969 they pulled it because of stereotypes... but it went something like this
FRITO BANDITO SONG
Aye, yii, yii, yiiii,
I am the Frito Bandito.
I like Frito's Corn Chips,
I love them I do.
I want Frito's Corn Chips,
I'll get them from you.
*****
Aye, yii, yii, yiiii,
Oh, I am the Frito Bandito.
Give me Frito Corn chips
And I'll be your friend.
The Frito Bandito
You must not offend. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/28/2004 8:28:09 PM | Howdy. I got something, but it ain't good. Has that stopped me from posting anything here before? Nuh-uh.
Eat it up:
=============================
An Exploration of Refrigerated Space
At five o’clock I remove my pants
If I had the energy I would dance
But instead I chance
A look in the fridge perchance
Eat the cheese made in France
At the leftovers I did glance
Warts on the mushrooms to lance
A task enough to make me blanch
And beat last week’s spaghetti with a branch
Cheerios are the choice of the night
To ease my gastronomic plight
To make hunger take flight
To carry me through this Moon Festival night
================================
Frito Bandito. Yup that was a little before my cognisant time. I think I was about a year old when that took place. I don't remember the first moon landing either, even though I was parked in front of the TV and staring right at it.
I like the song, though. It makes me want to march over to the store and grab some Doritos and well, you know....munch munch...
Okay, folks. Tomorrow, then. | |
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| Re: GoatSmell's Own Poetry Thread
Posted: 9/29/2004 5:15:33 AM | | cheerios are always the safe choice... from kids to adults...with milk or with beer.. always there to bring you cheer.... :-) | |
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| the headache
Posted: 9/29/2004 6:55:25 PM | waiting rooms...bright lights..laughing doctors...smiling nurses..
needles,iv's,sodium chloride, toridol
alcohol,strong colgne,kitty wallpaper,sailing ships
flowers of love....
never ending headache..2 weeks into it...
checkout,computers down,it's in the mail
token to let up the drawbridge
lights out to take away the pain
pills fluids, what to do .....
believe it or not...it can be worse when it is not your own..... | |
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| the headache
Posted: 9/29/2004 7:54:23 PM | Sukari...it sounds like your day was inspiring in a rather unfortunate way. I never liked hospitals myself, though I spent a bit of time in them for various reasons. Here in Saskatoon, we never have laughing doctors nor smiling nurses. They're running around like mad people lately.
Well, here's my little ditty. Fresh from the matter so grey:
================================
Say, Day, Grey, Way
I twiddled my thumbs, searching for a thing to say
Upon this crisp and cloudy fall day
Where can one derive inspiration from the grey?
I pick up and drop so many things on the way
That I can no longer find a thing to say
Even after such a mentally-challenging day
As I punished my brain matter so grey
Fusing my synapse gaps along the way
That made words hard to compose, let alone to say
If I could reverse the hours of this interesting day
I would replace the sun, remove the clouds so grey
And efficiently hurdle the obstacles in my way
==================================
Well, I'll be back tomorrow. G'night peoples.
Oh, hey there Ticket. Good to see ya.
Okey-dokey, away I must go. | |
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| the headache
Posted: 9/29/2004 9:56:17 PM | Plain, Simple, but Philosophical Depth of Magnitude.
Eve Goat,...truly enjoyed reading this one. I'll save that one too. | |
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| the headache
Posted: 9/29/2004 11:26:52 PM | | Really GOOD, Poet GS !!! I liked it. | |
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| the headache
Posted: 9/30/2004 6:04:09 PM | grey , grey
the sidewalk is grey....
construction plastering is what the imprint from years ago says..
I would call it cement.... but not in Galveston.....
grey with little specks of white..perhaps those ground up oyster shells used to hold it together
grey, dark grey spots..light grey splotches....what makes the shades of grey?
what I like best are the little blades of grass that are sneaking up through the cracks...
cracks in the grey....not made by ice,,,,but by the heat of summer...
the tiny flowers..blooming in such a small space you wouldn't think to look there...
a good thing I live down south... | |
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