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Passions in Poetry

Just Be.

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Amaryllis
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75 posted 09-12-2010 06:37 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

oops*     be right back.
.
i`m such a luddite; heh. Trying to mess with my profile , agh  lol
.
Will try one more thing.
~A
Amaryllis
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76 posted 09-12-2010 06:54 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Agh! never mind. Sorry `bout all this rambling...
~A

[This message has been edited by Amaryllis (09-13-2010 01:48 PM).]

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77 posted 09-13-2010 07:21 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

(chuckling) this thread was for rambling wasn't it? so why apologize?

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78 posted 09-13-2010 08:07 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Petr cried wolf too often
And the tale brought to word by Brother Grimm
Borrowed from the steppes a cautionary swirl of snow
Adding drama to the forest of Black where darkness lies at noon
But for the few clearings an axe man may have made
Dodging scattered bones left long ago from Rome

A hovel and her voice of aged wine
Brought warmth to a colder night when fire was welcome sight
To tired eyes and weary legs having trampled far to find
Her story told without rhyme or metered pause
But the same ablaze within wizened eyes

Wilhelm made his notes upon the page
Scribbling in the parts of other tales he had been told
Knowing that the snow outside was not deep enough yet to hide
The path that led deeper still into the side of life he thought
In time upon the once to own as his write
But lost within the space of vowels when the beauty
Had slept too long and left only the thin notes
Of a pipers song to lead such mice and children
To another end of pantheon

The hag made swift the sign of cutting throat
And Wilhelm felt his own constrict as caught up in her verbs
He forgot the scribe and took to heart the terms used
Describing doom as the cackled laughter from her lips
Relished in his small squirm

“Would you stay the night good sir?”
She asked as she poured another glass
“Or would you venture out this night upon the path that leads
Through such dark and weathered woods?"

He listened to the howl of wind against the limbs
And shuddered at his walk to come and answered her with small coin
“I must venture on”  

to which she simply shrugged
and sipped her wine
then offered up to him with sly of eye
"There was a time..."

and so another story began
amid the flicker of warmth hearth gave
and the guttered flame of candles
till dawn

Amaryllis
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79 posted 09-13-2010 10:32 AM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Ah, a cautionary tale; how we can become lost even while indoors... loved it, Ron~
.
*putting together another little work; will post when kids are off on bus  
.
~S
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80 posted 09-13-2010 12:17 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Fable, Myth and Fairy Tale
These bones are but the silt that collects in crevices of stone
And flesh is long decomposed to feed the worms
Yet we danced as demi-gods among the pantheons
Letting hearts and souls be joined to cautionary tales
Of heroic deed or the fail that came
When wax might melt against the sun
Or too often the cry of wolf ran round

Filial they are now told these fables old
But lust and flesh had hold and now lies reflected
In still pool below the rush of falls
Where iris and cat tail mix against the edge as home
For red wing song in entreat “where’s the mate my love”
“what tales they told when we were young”
It’s sung to sun, then whispered upon the calm
To lie still upon the skin of water for those who hear

The clavicle bears weight of verbs as parted from the sinew of words
It is bleached an antiseptic white upon the page
Then folded as one would for child into a craft
That bobs upon ripples formed in times when sighs
Or the touch of skin was fire to be stolen from the gods
As jealous eyes made storms to rage upon the sea
Or batter top of hill with trilled streaks of lightening
Followed by a rumbled growl, green for all in envy of owning more

Smooth this eroded silt of song lays deep within the stone
For the few and lucky ones to sieve through in search of some golden hue
That might dust the wings of hope’s angel or dress the shoulders bared
In some intimate command of love
Shared in Fairy Tale

Such Myth is born among the raucous sound of what was
When carried down to settle slow within the spaces left
as we were gone
Amaryllis
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81 posted 09-13-2010 01:35 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Acta Est Fabula
it was always disappointing
to wrench your hand from the parent`s grip
patter down the heliotrope hallways
past the stink and sweat and sawdust
and peer from behind some
sparkled hanging leotards
to where the clowns, exhausted, lounged
having smokes and taking turns
at the chipped mirror
removing the greasepaint from wrinkled skin
how hollow their eyes would look,
how yellow in the teeth and how feral
the expression once the smile washed away.
Once you looked behind the puppeteer`s drapes
moved the heavy claret velvet aside with one tiny hand
and saw the prop, the sullen stagehands
work the strings and levers; saw the lights
that if the angle worked, could make you cry
or scream with laughter; oh you were angry then
for the manipulations, easy as breathing
and for what never could be the same;
you grew and changed, but still that snicking sound
of the marionette following
its constant grin a terminal reminder
how the fantasy always supercedes
and reality a dip in stagnant water
cold, and rearranging
to the senses
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82 posted 09-13-2010 01:44 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

oh~~~ indeed intense and speaks to disallusioned ideal or ideas ..perhaps of coming to age...or the betrayal of the illusions that are intent...

very very nicely done ma'am.... one worthy a share to broader audiance and keeping for your own....

very nice writing...indeed
Amaryllis
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83 posted 09-13-2010 01:52 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Thank you~
I find myself surprised sometimes at the dark undernote that comes up through some of my work; as I`m not overtly feeling that way; as you said... `it comes out in words...`
.
Best~
S
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84 posted 09-14-2010 06:55 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Life is full of undertones..grey or darker, compromise and realities seem to always shade the "ideals" to a different hue. For children, growing up and becoming aware that life has its pain and dissapointments is in and of itself a darker tone...a loss of innocence and to some degree a belief perhaps in magic.

NOthing says those tones won't come out...they should in fact come out if we are aware of the reality around us...

the words find us, and sometimes the things we aren't thinking about find their way to the fabric of what ever we weave....

the piece is powerful..and very well done ma'am...  and it is not overly dark, but to me paints a very real metaphor for a lot of things.
Amaryllis
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85 posted 09-14-2010 11:34 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Thanks Ron, that means  lot, since I worry so over too much `telling not showing` in my poetry, but then don`t want to make it too abstract, either...
May I ask a favor?  Do you often like to revise/receive critique on your works? I do... and was hoping if there were any glaring or jarring parts to my poems, that you feel free to mention them.  I`m always willing to look at my poem objectively; and never become hurt or angered.  I value anothers` eyes; often they will catch things that I miss.  Maybe I could just mention `critique, plz?` on the ones I wish help with?  If you would want to, that is.
Thanks a bundle!  
Best~
Sharon
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86 posted 09-15-2010 07:12 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

I'm happy to offer what I can....
I'm not sure how to explain, but here goes...
so often to me a piece is written with the sound of it in my head. Maybe not the words to begin with, but the sound of it, the tone, the rythm, the pauses... changing lines in a piece is often hard for me unless I preserve that intended sound. For others, and I'll include myself sometimes....the intent of the piece has to be understood to know if the language or imagery is effective.

I say all that simply to try and explain, that if I offer something to you for thought, understand that it is just that, for thought...  I tend to write one way, while others write differently...and I never want to impose the way I hear or read on others..

so yes... I would be happy to offer what I can...but it helps if you also let me know what it is that you aren't happy with if...
and it is always an if... you know.

:-)

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87 posted 09-15-2010 12:07 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Grimm Tale: Catching Moths

“When” Wilhelm thought without malice
“Did it all begin?”

This gathering of tales and putting to scribe
Such cautions with their underlying hide of love or lust
Told since dust became the currency of time and all the beauties
Had found beasts to haunt night’s bed of calla
While children in an innocent greed became the meal
For outcasts personified in real

“Sort them out” his habits said as with pen in hand
He wrote fine script upon the page to blend archaic with new
Then sip the brew as descriptions grew grotesquely raw
To be scratched out of drafted tome and softened
With terms vague

“ To close my eyes and return”  his heart sighed
To once upon a time when the princess eyed a bard
Unsettling the hymns he would sing of piety and grace
As he eyed the lace beneath her gown and knew
Underneath it all her chest rose and fell with breath
Drawn not to threaten buttons close or in offer of a view
As comes in candle light and the moan of pleasure spent

“I must pause” he spoke to the shadowed room
And looked upon the hearth at embers fallen from the log
As she came back to him once more
And he felt for just a little while the warmth of then

“Once upon a time, in a land far away” he began
as the pen again slipped over white
“There was a young princess with great beauty
Who was courted by a frog”

He smiled to no one
As he snatched quickly at a passing moth
Amaryllis
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88 posted 09-15-2010 05:27 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

How fascinating... you write/compose your work in such a total departure from what I am familiar with!  Kind of like synesthesia~?  `Hearing` the poem before you even choose words... wow.  Myself, it goes something like this: (and maybe much more boring, but it works): 1, I am smitten with an idea, be it a word, an image, a concept, whatever. Poem begins to rattle around upstairs.   2,  I work a rough draft~ using the first words that come, get the poem out & on to paper.  3,  revision~  here I begin to play with sonics, word choice, language, line-break, etc... usually spending the most time here in this process  (and, for me, it`s the most fun.)  If I hit upon a better metaphor, or a way to condense & tighten the piece, more interseting word choice; it will all be done at this phase.  Here I will choose a title, too. Occasionally I like to ask for help and critique at this stage, also. If I don`t plan to submit it to a print magazine, I may put it up on the internet at this phase, also.  (Am starting a blog, to compile my web poetry.)  And 4,  polishing... making sure spelling, grammar, syntax, and punctuation are all in place.  Well, that`s it in a nutshell!  
.
Anyhow, I really adore the poem you shared above: it is wistful, tender,..  you truly do have a gift, unique to yourself, Ron. Thanks for sharing it.  
.
Best to you~
Sharon
Amaryllis
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89 posted 09-15-2010 05:27 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

How fascinating... you write/compose your work in such a total departure from what I am familiar with!  Kind of like synesthesia~?  `Hearing` the poem before you even choose words... wow.  Myself, it goes something like this: (and maybe much more boring, but it works): 1, I am smitten with an idea, be it a word, an image, a concept, whatever. Poem begins to rattle around upstairs.   2,  I work a rough draft~ using the first words that come, get the poem out & on to paper.  3,  revision~  here I begin to play with sonics, word choice, language, line-break, etc... usually spending the most time here in this process  (and, for me, it`s the most fun.)  If I hit upon a better metaphor, or a way to condense & tighten the piece, more interseting word choice; it will all be done at this phase.  Here I will choose a title, too. Occasionally I like to ask for help and critique at this stage, also. If I don`t plan to submit it to a print magazine, I may put it up on the internet at this phase, also.  (Am starting a blog, to compile my web poetry.)  And 4,  polishing... making sure spelling, grammar, syntax, and punctuation are all in place.  Well, that`s it in a nutshell!  
.
Anyhow, I really adore the poem you shared above: it is wistful, tender,..  you truly do have a gift, unique to yourself, Ron. Thanks for sharing it.  
.
Best to you~
Sharon
Amaryllis
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90 posted 09-16-2010 09:50 AM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Yes, I`ve put the poem up on Open Poetry, will see if it`s too gritty for the public tastes or not!  
.
See you~
Sharon

[This message has been edited by Ron (09-16-2010 10:51 AM).]

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91 posted 09-16-2010 10:15 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

I have comments to add..in reply to what you said in your message , but another oddity of mine is that there are times I like to think about what I am going to say... :-)


as for your poem being too gritty..LOL if it is, then it is time they skins got a bit thicker and people read better...  it is in fine taste for the public, even if they don't et know it... LOL

I know..I have read much darker on the board...

Amaryllis
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92 posted 09-16-2010 11:36 AM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Thank you... I know, life is not all sweetness and light~!  :p    lol  
.
And no worries; I never expect a reply, much less expect it instantly     ... most of us need time to gather our thoughts.
.
There is a showing on our home today; I have to get off the internet and get this place gleaming.  Fun, since I`m still feeling under the weather. Ah well, maybe this will be the buyer~?     That would make it all worth it!
.
Best~
Sharon
.
ps: thank you, RonC, for helping clear up my mess-up on this thread! Much appreciated.~S
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93 posted 09-17-2010 07:42 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

I think .. my explanation is somewhat incomplete.. LOL you listed the steps, and for me...it may be an image or a word or an emotion that rattles around inside my head for a while....but not really the words to the piece.. when the "sound" or "tone" of the piece has gelled inside, then the words are just there to fit...

still not a good explanation....  but, when a piece seems choppy to me or forced..it may get written, but it doesn't feel right and I am rarely satisfied. I have ot hear the tone almost as if it were a color or a musical note and what ever the idea or word or emotion or even tie to a story line has to fit that, or it isn't right...


hmmmm...... perhaps I should hush...I think I am sounding more and more crazy as I try to make it sound more and more sane.. LOL

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94 posted 09-17-2010 10:13 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Itinerate Thoughts ( Grimm Tale)

Wilhelm looked down the dusty road
Letting his eyes lose focus as he thought of her
And felt within some small part curled up inside that cherished
Brought to mind the epiphany he’d had when all the children’s tales
Had gelled within the life he lived and sparked that part of soul
Connected to his heart

“How many nights?” he wondered as he walked
“Have I sat upon the hearth to listen to the whispered words
Seeing threads connect the then to now and felt them tug
At rabbit holed dreams or the fairy tale yet born?”

The sun had no worried eyes or sweat upon its brow
And each wisp of dust that rose from path cared not
If it settled where it was or somewhere on the wind it found
That  thorns grew ripe on brambles protected crown
Guarding young virtue or the fates yet found
In some woman’s heart
So foot follows foot along the trail and minutes to days
To moons month passing found one flute played
To be much the same as the symphony of warning
That rumbled as a low curse in the throat of crone or vowel
As it hissed the cautionary tale or the way the drums
When played strong shook marrow in the bone

“Oh, breathe in me” he whispered to the wind
“and let some movement of this heat find rest within
What I have packed in careful folds and the words as syntax begat
When I was cold”

“The shade… and pause…”
“For I must capture in a moments scribe just how when hope resides
Beneath the ink and yet within the verbs turned noun
When I remember how it felt
As once upon a time the arc of her in meld met the map of me”

Two trails where wheels have formed the bare
And eyes a focus on another tale to tell
For children who may never hear the all of why it’s told
While in the distance still unseen
Bells toll the hours spent
On dusty roads and in the thoughts
Of her
Amaryllis
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95 posted 09-17-2010 12:34 PM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis

Lovely... your series are an endless fascination!  Are these all prior works?  (Jealous if you are writing them off the cuff lol)  
.
And don`t worry, you sound quite sane, in my view! lol  I suppose it`s like a magician... never explain the trick behind the magic... it just- is.  
.
Showing went well yesterday, thankfully.  Haven`t had time to write until now.  My hubby`s truck went on the fritz so he took the fam. rig...am home today... is quiet here, perfect time for a poem to be born, I hope...
.
Best~
S
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96 posted 09-17-2010 08:26 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

no they aren't prior works... not composed on the page, but on the laptop then put in here..  and nothing to be jealous of. Some would say I am.... intense when I grab hold of an idea or series and they often come one after the other then they will dry up and i may or may not pick it up later...
the Grimm series, is one I have visited before, but in a more abstract and explicit way...
these come from the idea of how the stories might have been inspired if Wilhelm  had written them as metaphor for what was going on around him and stories he had heard...

I hope the showing turns into an offer on your house.... of course I wish for you and yours the best ma'am.

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97 posted 09-21-2010 08:02 AM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

Edits to a Tale ( Grimm Tale)


“ What monsters are these?” Wilhelm asked the wind
While it turned the loose pages into a disorder he had just undone
As the fading hues of sky gave way to the blacker ink
That held pinpricked bits of light too dim to think in sum
That they held more of day than day itself but too far they stood
And were relegated to the night and eyes that might see
If they braved the road or forest path
“I don’t know where to begin” He mused and stretched a hand
In reach of one not there but in the dream of other land
Knowing that to feel the fingertips upon his own
Would help him conjugate the verbs colored warm
And perhaps he’d find the pen

“How cruel the story line” he whispered as his shoulders bunched
In the lift of words from memory to lay them heavy on the white
With thick long strokes of indigo to mar page
As the wind rustled sheaves by the edges yet dry
To rearrange the beginning and the middle end with colder eyes
Upon the limbs left exposed to early chill that threatened frost
In untimely kill of green to birth the grey that comes
With winter’s chill

“Redemption lies in faith?” he queried to the one not there
“Or is it a delusion to believe in more than the logic of real?”

Weighted against the open windows breathe
Manuscript in ordered pieces sat stacked on polished wood
While in a flourish of quill he began the story line again
“Once upon a time there was a young girl who lived in a far away land”

He paused and laid down the pen then whispered to the flickered light
  “What monsters these indeed,
Are distance and time, contrived to keep apart the hearts so bound”
“I am lost it seems within the maze of wind
And these thoughts I have
Of her”
Amaryllis
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98 posted 09-21-2010 11:19 AM       View Profile for Amaryllis   Email Amaryllis   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Amaryllis


Six months after surgery,
the scar still twists his smile,
though he does not feel it
anymore
.
.
he wants, for his birthday
a bike, (bright red), and legos,
comics, games and candy,
wants a party
.
.
I hear the rest, silent:
he wants friends at the party
boys to wrestle and be loud,
wants to be as cool, as cool-
wants a day without restraint
and classmates without eyes
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99 posted 09-23-2010 12:44 PM       View Profile for Cpat Hair   Email Cpat Hair   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Cpat Hair

touching piece....and even if factual speaaks to the way we all may want something behind what we say we want... a broader need for acceptance needed by all of us to some degree or other, and how as people we can't help but notice differences...
being different isn't always easy.... whether by choice or by circumstances. Often the thing we want most...is for thingss to be as they once were or the way we imagine them to be....

always a pleasure ma'am... to read your offerings
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