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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/24/2005 7:15:36 PM | Howdy Blitz and Pickles....hmm...Pickles and Blitz, Pickles and Blitz...like kibbles and bits. A pair of excellent posts from two excelllent poets.
Hello to Breathing dear, who continues to impress me everyday with her words, her deeds and just the way she occupies a room.
As for me...a quickie:
============================
Buzzin’ Through…
Scotch and coffee gives a good buzz
Wraps the mind up in gentle fuzz
Sure, mixing scotch with anything is a crime
But this tiny indiscretion is mine
==============================
More coffee is a-comin'. Buzz..buzz...g'night. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/24/2005 7:57:33 PM | FROZEN SUNSET
The tufted white-and-grey clouds obscure
the sun so close to setting behind the hill
which ridges over the rolling ocean
the seven geese skim over with graceful precision.
I shift my pupils two millimeters--
there ! the grey-violet clouds have thickly gathered,
scuttlebutt of danger near the mountain's morass
leading behind the high-rises, winking and obscene.
In BMWs,
and Volkswagons with rusted mufflers,
the frenzied Saturday night throng
shoots along Beach Avenue
panting for ethnic quisine,
ale, and a perfect parking spot.
Others flock to the movie theater
to watch a screened sunset
the director. skilled at reading trends,
edits to a brief clip
to keep the bored patrons
from squirming and squirming in their seats. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/24/2005 9:57:47 PM | Hello all.....
Blitz, Pickles, Rory - - - Fine words from you three
Goat ...what can I say - - - You are divine......And you make amazing java
~~
When writing a poem
Open your mind
Respect each verse
Don’t force each line to rhyme
Speak the words and make them your own
~~
Well,,,,,,that's it for tonight | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/25/2005 1:11:12 PM | Hiya all,
To the future
Together:
With me, just walk
Together:
Hold my hand, let’s talk
As one:
Sharing the wind
As two:
Becomes the friend
The future:
Holds the key
To the future:
Of you and me
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/25/2005 3:01:56 PM | Hello all. A late sermon is all ready and just itching to be delivered. I hope it makes you all itch too.
Hello to Mari and Rory...two great posts. Thanks and that cleans up the Barn sincely in time for me to drop a big one.
(Grunt) Huh-here we guh-go:
===========================
Psalm 689 – The Book of Goat
After a cruel week at work
Thy Lard hath considered
Blessed be His crappy jobs
He hath held in His earlier years
For what He hath now
Is pretty Sweet
Compared to what was
Thy Lard worked with lard one time
In a place where sausages were made
And that many several months will be
Seared upon His memory
After shaving pig carcasses with
A butcher knife
Being presented with 812 emails
Every morning
That are Mostly Angry
Is nothing
When a hairy pigs a*** is hanging
In your face
And all you have is a sharp knife
Sharp, yes, but only a knife
There were other crap jobs, to be sure
Another being a reporter in a small
One horse town newspaper
And the only ones that even looked
At that newspaper
Were the birds that stared between their feet
Just before they took
A Great Dump
Thy Lard thinks about all those long days
Of sitting in on boring council meetings
Where regulations and laws were
Brought up like hairballs
(With Great Big Sounds of regurgitative power)
And Dissected on the table
By middle-aged men in shirtsleeves
When things get rough at His comfy job
Thy Lard just thinks of the time
When He worked with
Law and Sausages
And all seems great in comparison
Amen
==============================
Okay...I'm off to see the wizard..the wonderful wizard of .. uh..wassisname...
..y'now...
Yeah..later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/25/2005 3:18:40 PM | Jayzus
I am here 7 hrs away and you are late with the sermon and it is my bedtime
Lardy Lardy, Goat was tardy
With his witty ditty
His learnin' Sermon
That I was yearning to hear
In this land of Bangers and Bitter
I now feel better
Goat you are such a dear
G'nite from Jolly Old
 | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/26/2005 6:18:29 AM | good morning all....
sorry this is kinda long, not sure if I even like it, my boyfriend mentioned this to me and it came out, not sure yet if it's a keeper...
Have a great day
The final battle
He remembers the day well
Facing the jury of family and peers
The day he joined the army
And came face to face with his fears
Young lad of eighteen
Freshly on his own
Trying to make a life for himself
Away from only what was known
Lived in poverty all his life
Had to struggle to survive
Deep inside his heart
He knew there was more to life
The fearful day was finally here
The call for war came in
Shaking with fear and anticipation
Knowing his new life had just begun
So much fighting went on that year
Many lives were lost or taken away
His belief in himself and in god
Began to slowly sway
Each night he would read the bible
And wonder why he was there
Why could god want all those dead?
His salvation he did fear
One day his life was taken away
And he stood before god shaking
Nervous that he wouldn’t be allowed in
For all the lives that he had taken
Please god let me explain myself
Hush child there is no need
But god I went into that war
With a lot of hatred and greed
No my child you did not
You went in as a soldier of war
Saving many lives and souls
Trying to bring peace to a land so far
Then why so many deaths lord
This I do not understand
Why where we sent to die
While we tried to keep our stand
Because my child sometimes you must see
That in life a death must occur
So that each new day will bring a life
Of someone who is meant to be here
And because of your strength my child
A future is bright for someone great
He or she will now take over
And decide the world’s fate
You have done your job for me
And now it’s your turn to rest
Come in and see what you have earned
For being a soldier amongst the best...
Miz
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/26/2005 6:02:26 PM | Excellent, Miz...a true ballad! Howdy to dear Pickles...sorry I was so late yesterday.
And hello peoples. I have just this tonight:
===========================
In Saskatoon, No-one Can Hear You Yawn
Great balls of tickety-goo
I’m so tired I could spew
Instead, I will simply hew
A nap in this little-used pew
=============================
Okay...later, eh? G'night! | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/26/2005 10:48:43 PM | Howdy all!!!!
MOM THE TAXI
My oldest called
Twice this week
Seems she’s having
Quite a streak
2 cars down
In parking lots
Couldn’t move em
From their spots
So mom the taxi
Chauffeurs her back
Without her cars
Anywhere intact
Sam | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/27/2005 3:26:18 PM | Greets, everyone. Goat, the administrative nightmare, ah yes.....cantcha just drop a computer on some bigwig's toe, and make like it was an accident? (haha...)
===================================================================
BEFORE TODAY, EIGHT DAYS WITHOUT AN ACCIDENT
I held the hoist box,
moved with the half-ton beam
throught the salt haze
then
a soft click,
hooks snapped,
I let go the box,
raced away
as the wave of zinc
landed with a frying splat beside me.
Only one stray drop
found my long-sleeved shirt,
ate through it into skin,
but screaming from the front hoist
told me Sam wasn't so lucky,
his second day on the job
initiated with a sheet of molten silver
on back and arms.
His body wraps removed,
skin graft a success,
galvanizing goes on as before.
We don't mention the incident
on our drugged routine.
Boredom kills more than danger
I think during another explosion
as slouching Herbie turns away,
covers his lined neck. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/27/2005 7:35:31 PM | Evening all ..... such talented poets in this ole barn
~~
Stillness
A quiet moment in the wind
The crisp scent of fall
The warmth of you near
Moments together
Memories to share
As days turn to years
~~
Sleep well...see y'all later | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/27/2005 8:09:47 PM | Howdy all...just a little time for a wee quickie...if you know what I mean.
Hey, Rory and Mari...good to see you guys here and in fine poetic form.
Okay..let's see what I have in my - whattyacallit - brain tonight:
========================
The Mincing Link
I met a man who would make a fine madamoiselle
In sight and size and, most particularly, smell
He was slight of build and not at all scary
For a man he was girly and for a woman he was scary
===========================
Okay..that'll do it. See you guys tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/28/2005 6:42:35 PM | Hi all. Hello Barn.
I'll just leave this here and leave quietly, so's I don't disturb anyone:
==================================
An Old Poet’s Reconciliation
Gone are the days when poetry
Could tumble like
Laughing water
From these worn, old hands
Each line becomes an
Introspective foraging
Akin to a nutritionist finding nothing
Of value
In McDonald’s
After nearly two years of constant
Daily effort
(Some days weren’t laden with effort, mind you)
The poems have ceased to find
Topics
Just aimless rhymes floating
Carrying through, hardly worth noting
Tumbleweeds of thought
Blackflies of notions that
Swarm
And bite
When that mood is just right
Could it be autumn creeping in?
That transitional season
Introducing us here to winter
Rather harshly, at times
Frost was here this morning
Not Robert Frost, just
Plain
Old
Frost
Caked on windshields
Silvering the front lawns
A reminder of what comes soon
Snow by Hallowe’en
Or at least by All Saint’s Day
And yet
Another poem comes forth
From small memories of
Summery lawn statues frozen alive
By a cold evening
By crystalline reflections on
Shrouded windows
Scraped at, picked at, cleared away
By people, ordinary people
Who do not pause to think
Why it is so
Just ‘cuz it is
Poetry settles in, like dust
Like frost
Like an old dog on a hot porch
Like dirty underwear that has fallen
Behind the washing machine
And sticks to the floor
=========================
I'll be going to sleep soon...g'night you crazy critters... | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/28/2005 9:01:54 PM | Greetings lurkers - - I know you're out there....
Hey there Sweet Goat - - I am left speechless, your mind and heart astound me.
"An Old Poet’s Reconciliation" is filled with wisdom and strength. Y'ar brilliant, me'love.
~~
Words fall like leaves
From branches in the mind
Thoughts tumble from the soul
Snapshots of a day
Images from within
Captured on the page
A memory once new
Begins to unfold
Stories of a life lived in silence
A journey through time is told
Recollections of a past
Quietly come to rest
~~
Sweet dreams ......... | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/29/2005 6:03:19 AM | Good Morning all...
Breathing that poem was so true, for me anyway, most of my writes are experiences and you summed it up in one poem how and why we write....well done..
Hope all is well, today is raining here very strong winds and rain, must be getting the tail end of rita, oh well, not going outside until later on today so I will be nice and cozy, but bored all to hell..lol
Will be back later on with a poem...have a great one..
miz | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/29/2005 7:52:17 PM | Howdy all. Been reading through the poetry forums a bit and became suddenly inspired...to open a beer...and inspired further to write.
But a quick hello to Miz...and, yes, that Breathing gal is wonderful. She is the classy side to this relationship, let me tell you. I'm a-looking forward to your next poem.
Okay..to the poem of the day:
==============================
Poetry in a Book is More Refined Than It Appears
Ah, what a waste…what a tragic waste
This soft fruit of poetry
Is such a bitter thing to taste
When did writing and all its art
Become such a thing
To be expelled like a fart?
Take the sample of published poets
Who write such crap
That one begs to throw it
Then they get waaaay up on that high horse
And dribble pearls from their lips
To the Unwashed Masses, of course
Pompous, they beller – arrogant, they scoff
After I drop their book in the wood chipper
I’ll tell them to bugger off
==============================
For the record, I have never been published as a poet and I am so very proud to say it. Poetry scratches an itch I have -- it is self-serving for me. What brings me joy is to see people doing that for themselves and not writing to seek praise in the guise of asking for "honest appraisals".
Write. Dig deep. Watch closely. Record. Let it stand. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Always repeat.
Don't let the published barstards bring you down.
Okay, that's the end of my mini-rant.
Hugs and kisses....g'night, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/29/2005 8:26:51 PM | Hello to you, Miz - - Your writes inspire.....curious what you will serve up next. The Goat far exceeds me in class.
Da Goat - - Class, me,,,, errr - nah,,,, Just a simple gal from a small town . Your words tonight, proof of your wisdom and grace.
A big howdy to the rest of you barn dwellers, where ever you may be?
~
Brilliant minds of long ago
Uttered words from the soul
Scribes wrote of distant lives
Stanzas told stories
Of pleasure and pain
Not vanity and fame
Words
Once vibrant and new
Now seem ancient
Not worthy of time
Lethargy settled in
Who was to win?
Literature lost its value
Stillness
Drowned in the night
The appreciation of words
Vanished
Many hearts banished
Words tell of life
Weaving tales of the day
Silently I watch
History
Buried
And forgotten
~~ | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/30/2005 7:01:57 PM | Howdy all. Hello Breathing...yar the best, y'now...
==========================
A Goat Complains
September’s cool graces step low
Through the open window
They creep in -- seep in -- so very slow
Its process requires no attention
A poet stands his ground
Amid some assembled sounds
And is making the rounds
In a night with little heat retention
He reads on the computer screen
Things brash, so they would seem
So rude and so coldly mean
Bared there, a bone of sour contention
Another place’d poet draws bitter from a well
Claiming at least he can spell
Condemns her grammar to hell
It got this poet to stand up and make mention
Poems do not have to rhyme
They do not have to keep time
Avoiding soul in favour of structure is a crime
This poet will adhere to this like a pension
=================================
Yep...subtle. Well, I'll go to bed now. G'night. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/30/2005 8:39:41 PM | I have a code in da nose
A code which makes me feel
As tho Eichmann has my head in a vice
Nazi torture was not nice
Snot, feeling hot,don't know what
I'm going to do, to survive
I have to breathe to stay alive
But the effort is monumental
Can someone please
Do something to ease
The congestion
Any suggestions?
| |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 9/30/2005 9:58:19 PM | Ahoy, all ! Goat, I was curious re your last post and investigated further.
===================================================================
ASPHALT TANKA
The sun-smitten asphalt
shimmers under layered haze,
a fresh, blackened scab,
the failed cauterant too soon
to fester and crack for weeds. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/1/2005 1:21:06 PM | SONG OF EXPERIENCE
Six years old and my first day of Grade One
Walking the mile to Carleton Elementary
Filled with constant wonder at the sights and sounds.
Almost at the building at the crosswalk on Joyce Street
I hear a loud yell breaking the peace like a gun
And see a terrified man running from another man.
I say to myself, this isn't a movie,
This is what life includes in my new neighbourhood
As the man from behind tackles him to pavement.
Captured, handcuffs on behind him, pushed into the back seat,
And the car edges into anonymous traffic.
I cross the street while looking both ways.
I'm sure I learned other things that day,
And I made friends and at recess played.
Kids and adults always outside hallway lines strayed. | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/1/2005 7:52:22 PM | Howdy all. Yep, I am a little late. Breathing and I were touring the rainy town of Saskatoon on bike. We ended the day with coffee and South Park. Oy.
Howdy Pickles! I hope you're feeling better and taking care of your self. That "code in yer head" sounds nasty. Lots of liquids and do some turning and coughing...my doctor loves that turn and cough bit as he holds onto my knackers. I think that's why he went to med school.
Rory! Good to see you here. I guess you discovered the source of my complaint last night. I was pretty annoyed at some of the goings-on around the forum, but I'm well over it now. It stuns me how people can treat each other at times. Not my style, but then when someone wants me to critique their poems and "be honest" I just say no. I don't get paid for teaching...actually, I don't get paid at all.
Your poems are still sharp and clear as always. You have the ear, you have the mind and you should have a change of gonch when you write. I didn't when I read it and I ruined a perfectly good chair and lost the respect of my peers. You are good, pardner. Very good.
Okay...for me..it's a little something like this:
====================================
Mine Nostrils Hath Smelled the Glory
Slap my biscuits and tickle me hard
Tomorrow is the coming of Thy Lard
Don’t much care if you’re French or German
Get thy ass ready for tomorrow’s sermon
Some powerful things will be in you ingrained
But it will leave your life largely unchanged
But I’ll leave you in the know, not in the lurch
Just make sure your butt’s in that church
I broke laws of English there, go to the slammer
What the heck is wrong with my grammar?
Maybe I should sing, maybe dance?
I’ll just write while wearing no pants
Did I make you sick…make you feel gross?
Just know this rolling stone has no moss
Try to sleep with that imaginary fright
But now, I will bid thee a good night
=============================
Feel the heavens tremble! Fuh-HEEEL the wrath of Thy Lard! Feel the cuh-hooolon buh-HURNIN' with the wrath of the hot sauce on the soft taco I had.
(fart)
Somebody give me an AMEN!!
See you guys tomorrow, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/2/2005 1:02:49 PM | Here it is....hot and fresh like a turd on someone's morning lawn:
================================
Psalm 75 – The Book of Goat
Thy Lard is tired
And even upon this seventh day
He is not resting
He searches for a sermon
And finds little of Inspiration
Can this be indicative
Or even symptomatic of a life
Devoid of strife?
(Or even annoyances?)
That can be developed into
A Mighty Complaint
Y’know…
A large release of Thy Lard’s hot air
As one fist beats the pulpit
And the other scratches
His Most Holy Marbles
And Thy Lard strings long-winded
Sentences about nothing in particular
Until an Amen rolls around
To conclude the tirade
That kinda thing…
So..even in the vacuum of nothing
Going on this week
That is noteworthy enough
For Thy Lard to find complaint in it
And it hath come to pass:
Thy Lard is the target
Of His own lament
A sad day, indeed
Thy Lard thinketh He
Will simply watch TV
And pick the dead skin from His feet
And maybe eat it
When no one is looking
Amen
===========================
Bleah. Who needs a sermon when I have beer? Later, eh? | |
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| The Poetry Barn and Eatery
Posted: 10/2/2005 7:11:14 PM | Hallelulia
I was not 7 hours ahead and waiting.....
Could it be that at last
The Lardish Prophesy has come to pass
That as in a windy fart
Sermons are an art
Delivered to us weekly
But not meekly
Words of wisdom and ponce
Where once...there was pontification
Now a celebration of oral gratitude
Goat... you are the main...DUDE | |
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| just another
Posted: 10/3/2005 11:11:55 AM | January birds
Birds on a wire,
singing for the day,
no thoughts of malice,
only yearning for May.
Fly to the tree,
and back to the pole,
life's not meaningless,
not just a black hole.
Wings and a prayer,
to build the right nest,
and pirch on the high wire,
right along with the rest,
instinct will lead them,
when the time is just right,
to sing in the morning
or sleep late at night.
No war no hatred,
only life on their minds,
made to be different
but fly with their kind,
birds on a wire
freedom to fly,
soaring through life,
so life won't pass by...
The Ta][nted One | |
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