Plentyoffish dating forums are a place to meet singles and get dating advice or share dating experiences etc. Hopefully you will all have fun meeting singles and try out this online dating thing... Remember that we are the largest free online dating service, so you will never have to pay a dime to meet your soulmate.
     
Show ALL Forums  > Poems And Quotes  > Pummeling      Home login  
 AUTHOR
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 77
So you wanna be a poet? Well,Page 4 of 52    (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41)
So you wanna be a poet? Well,
why not, poets get to have
the hottest chicks, the hunkiest
hunks, the best tables
at restaurants, insider
stock tips, military deferments
for their sons & daughters...

They get to be written up
and interviewed, live,
on tv! They get baseball stadiums
named after them, airports, city streets...

I had a point back there
when I began but now
I’ve forgotten it, but see
it doesn’t matter





cause I’m a poet!
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 78
view profile
History
So you wanna be a poet? Well,
Posted: 12/23/2007 9:45:04 PM
Jer, Happy Holidays!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 79
So you wanna be a poet? Well,
Posted: 12/24/2007 6:45:52 AM
Same to you, Lorikins!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 80
So you wanna be a poet? Well,
Posted: 12/24/2007 11:30:57 AM

Winter in Montreal
Cold winds blow
yet the streets are full
bustle people
scarves and mittens
holiday cheer
to you my dear.


Same to you with gerkins
and, if you can afford it,
a sprinkle
of shaved white truffles!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 81
Who will be our saviour?
Posted: 12/27/2007 8:04:07 AM
On Christmas morn, on Christmas morn,
a child to all of us was born
and who will be our saviour?

Will it be a Korean child?
A Latvian? Will he or she be meek and mild
or, as children often are, a little wild?
Oh, who will be our saviour?

Will she be clever and curious?
Mild mannered, or sometimes furious?
Will his laughter ring out, proud and free
or will his heart sometimes with sadness be?
Oh, who will be our saviour?

Oh, who will be our saviour?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 82
Like fire in the heart of rock
Posted: 12/29/2007 4:44:15 AM
Like fire in the heart of rock
a bubble of blood burst apart
the mind of God,
scattering shards that became the universe
and consciousness of it.

Thought became substance,
substance, imbued with thought,
became the marrow of love
and supernovae, black holes
and hope.

Planets were created and destroyed,
space bent and stretched,
flora and fauna came into being, matter
and anti-matter and,
to witness and record and wonder at it all,
man

who soon began the naming of things,
condemning those who named them otherwise.

We thread our lives
through the ever-diminishing eye
of a palsied needle, and proclaim:

This is my weapon, this is my shield.
This is my truth, I shall not yield...


The universe is the obituary
of God
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 83
view profile
History
Like fire in the heart of rock
Posted: 12/29/2007 9:12:52 AM
wow Jer, love this one, especially these lines....


We thread our lives
through the ever-diminishing eye
of a palsied needle, and proclaim:

This is my weapon, this is my shield.
This is my truth, I shall not yield...
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 84
Like fire in the heart of rock
Posted: 12/30/2007 5:00:39 AM
Many thanks, Lori, and yet it gave me SO MUCH trouble, went through many drafts and still I feel it lacks something, some joy or melody.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 85
Some poems are written in cluttered rooms
Posted: 1/2/2008 5:39:03 AM
Some poems are written in cluttered rooms.
You feel in the lines the presence
of photographs of ex-lovers, of grand-children,
unanswered letters lying helter-skelter,
bills waiting to be paid,
books the writer has been meaning to read
for some long time but which
will never get read, perhaps.
An odour of longing creeps out
from the walls and into the poem.

Others are written in monastic
cells, rough plastered walls,
a loose, single-bulb fixture
dangles from the ceiling
and there is the sense
of someone ready to move out
before he has fully moved in.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 86
We will write poems
Posted: 1/7/2008 9:49:39 AM
We will write poems
till the cows come home
but what if those bucolic creatures
go on preferring to munch grass?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 87
Like fire in the heart of rock
Posted: 1/9/2008 5:04:58 AM
I admire the whole of this, but especially



Ashes are the dust of love
condemnation is the
salve of justification
but not of the just

!!!!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 89
the intervention
Posted: 1/10/2008 7:12:13 AM

Talking in surround sound
Words streaming by
Ears deafened
By the constant barrage
Of the sermon
Repeating itself
Ad infinitum
“Everybody’s talking at me”*

An intervention
Of the heart
A way to stop
The decline of the soul
Causing despair
Over things never learned
During misspent youth
Hoping to bring
Her back to herself
V
Oncelucid

9 January 2007

*Nilsson: "Everybody's Talking" (Midnight Cowboy, 1069)


Friends never met,
friends far away and yet
as close as if one had a 2nd heart.
Friends who are never apart
from each other but with cyber smiles
no distance so irrelevant as the miles.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 90
the intervention
Posted: 1/10/2008 1:06:58 PM
Oh, Youvanna! So nice to see you here again!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 92
HUBBARD AND SQUASH
Posted: 1/15/2008 3:48:02 AM
"Have you taken leave of your senses,"
asks Hubbard (the straight man).
"No, answers Squash, dead-pan, "but
"we're taking a short holiday from each other!"


They've got one of those mature, contemporary
relationships, an 'open marriage,'
no questions asked
or answered. Hubbard has been getting into
his homosexuality and Squash
has both men and women lovers on the side.
Hubbard is lean
as an incipient pain, while Squash
sort of waddles around, comfortable
as pop or "B" movies.


It's a treat to see them,
following each other around,
pretending to go their own ways, each
like the punch-line to some other joke.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 93
Welcome to Poets Anonymous
Posted: 1/18/2008 5:18:47 PM
“Hi, my name is Jerry,
I’m addicted to writing poetry...”
“Hi, Jerry!”
“I haven’t written any poems
for an hour now...”
“Way to go, Jerry!”
“Before that I wrote and spoke
nothing but prose for three whole days.
And I wouldn’t have given in except
there was this contest
and I just couldn’t resist...”
“Be strong, Jerry. You can do it!”
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 94
Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
Posted: 1/20/2008 3:22:24 PM
Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
can break your heart. You’re in your bed
beside your sweetheart and you’ve just turned out
the lights. You cosy in for a soft, safe journey
further along the rails you’ve travelled
happily together, and then

––you hear it! Long and low
and with a loneliness
that will not be assuaged,
and you know, against your knowing,
you’re meant to be somewhere else.
 Brizo
Joined: 2/19/2006
Msg: 95
view profile
History
Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
Posted: 1/20/2008 8:12:02 PM
Jer, that reminds me of this song.....

Wayward Wind

(Stan Lebowsky and Herb Newman)

The wayward wind is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And he was born the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

In a lonely shack by a railroad track
He spent his younger days
And I guess the sound of the outward-bound
Made him a slave to his wand'rin ways

And the wayward wind is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And he was born the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

[Instrumental Interlude]

Oh, I met him there in a border town
He vowed we'd never part
Though he tried his best to settle down
I'm now alone with a broken heart

And the wayward wind is a restless wind
A restless wind that yearns to wander
And he was born the next of kin
The next of kin to the wayward wind

The next of kin to the wayward wind
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 96
Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
Posted: 1/21/2008 10:12:40 AM

Cra.p Brizo....

I KNOW I am going to be singing that when I try to sleep...

Clickety clack clickety clack
he's coming back he's coming back
the stock is rolling down the track
my hobo
is coming back


Well, maybe this will dislodge that from your mind:

I'm 'Enry the eighth I am,
'Enry the eighth I am, I am!
I got married to the woman next door,
She'd 'ad seven "Enries before!
She wouldn't 'ave a Willy or a Sam!
I'm 'er eighth old man, I'm 'Enry,
'Enry the eighth I am!

Second verse. Hexactly like the first:
I'm 'Enry the eighth I am,
'Enry the eighth I am, I am!
I got married to the woman next door,
She'd 'ad seven "Enries before!
She wouldn't 'ave a Willy or a Sam!
I'm 'er eighth old man, I'm 'Enry,
'Enry the eighth I am!

Third verse...
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 97
Sometimes the howl of a midnight train
Posted: 1/22/2008 7:15:36 AM
Frststp: Not sure I understood the header of your entry nor the reference to "4th verse" but I enjoyed these fragments of something longer (?).
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 98
Picasso, you see
Posted: 1/23/2008 5:51:49 AM
Picasso, you see, was too busy to be a genius.
He would leave that to the intellectual
nouveaux-riches, the pezzonovanti
with visions of laureates dancing in their eyes!

There was food to be eaten and women to paint
(or was it the other way around?}
and once he had painted a woman
she would know that she had finally and definitively
been laid, and no other man
would ever possess or satisfy her again.

There was Olga Khoklova of the Ballets Russe
whose body worked in ways that continually fascinated him
and Marie-Therese Walter. When the two women
happened to meet, for the first time, accidentally, in his studio,
he asked them, “Why don’t you fight for me?”

And so they did, but neither of them won
because no one ever won Picasso
but Pablo.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 99
Picasso, you see
Posted: 1/23/2008 8:00:30 AM
Your Picasso, Ms Risen, is wonderful!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 100
Picasso, you see
Posted: 1/24/2008 4:18:20 AM
Sophia, no need to apologize to me for the correction. I'm not the most meticulous with facts but I thought I had got that information from some internet site. Whichever it was though, what astonishing arrogance in his challenge to them, no?
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 102
Picasso, you see
Posted: 1/24/2008 7:01:10 AM
Margot 40, what an elegant poem! Thanks.
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 103
Picasso, you see
Posted: 1/26/2008 5:09:46 AM
One day, Ms Risen, someone may establish a formula for the amount of arrogance (& general bad behaviour) acceptable proportionate to the amount of talent!
 Alyosha
Joined: 10/29/2007
Msg: 104
The bigger bang!
Posted: 1/29/2008 5:43:43 AM
We speak of the “Big Bang”.
Could it have been any bigger than the one
when Seymour Sperm, the leader of the pack,
fastest swimmer of them all
or the only who paused to ask for directions,
ran into Evvie Egg,
and without so much as a by your leave
or a Howdy Ma’am, popped in,
bag and baggage,
and began to do his business there?

Will you ever know what that moment was like,
the first reaction of each to each?

Or even more unknowable
will you, could you know what was going on
before they ran into each other?

Or what if it had been, not Seymour,
but Steve who entered Edie
rather than Evvie?

And you might have ended up
someone altogether else!
Show ALL Forums  > Poems And Quotes  > Pummeling