prmystic
Whooshite Apprentice
Posts: 225
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Post by prmystic on Mar 4, 2005 21:35:32 GMT -6
Hi Phalon,
Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it.
And I like your new poem...has a haiku feel to it for me.
Battle on, bards,
mystic
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 4, 2005 21:37:46 GMT -6
LMAO. I needed a laugh. I think this poem is becoming the Roses are Red of our boards.
Erco-That was pretty strong there. I shall work up to one. Poetry is very private to me so this will have to be a safe one.
Promises promises in the dark......
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 4, 2005 21:39:49 GMT -6
...are rarely kept in light of day.
Hey Prymistic..just realized I neglected to tell you how much I enjoyed the poem. Forgive my lapse. I loved it. Thank you for sharing.
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 4, 2005 21:51:12 GMT -6
.....but they work just fine in a public park,
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 4, 2005 21:52:19 GMT -6
Where all of life is on display.
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 5, 2005 23:13:16 GMT -6
However, on you soul they leave a mark,
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 5, 2005 23:19:50 GMT -6
In loving hands I wish to play.
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 5, 2005 23:21:19 GMT -6
Arches
Grains pressed, baked and pressed, rubbed and swept, tormented into shape.
Rainbow shaped, red brown arcs soaring arches.
Sun dials, telling stories, times ago, times now.
Handles, holding ancients, pulling open Earths room of layers lying underneath.
Heat from inside waves of mirages, sagebrush seeweed weaves paintbush.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 5, 2005 23:23:29 GMT -6
OOOOH! Nice. I'm there! Like some where in Sedona!
Fantastic Mistress Shtick!
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 5, 2005 23:23:48 GMT -6
This is online poetry so....there. I just put it together now. I think it is poetry. Looks like it. Perhaps this is my poetry impression. Like I do a great Godfather impression when I have a cold.
Sigh.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 5, 2005 23:27:42 GMT -6
I still say..very nice!
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Post by Gabbin on Mar 5, 2005 23:35:29 GMT -6
And act like life is a lark,
I am running out of things which ryhme with ark. OH, ark!
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prmystic
Whooshite Apprentice
Posts: 225
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Post by prmystic on Mar 7, 2005 18:27:20 GMT -6
Nice muse - ic stick girl! Reminds me of certain western landscapes and their mysterys.
Thanks, Scrappy, I'm glad that you liked it. I keep saying someday I'll put together a little book of my Winter Solstice creations. Every year I write a poem or a story as a part of my invitations.
I really like this little thread.
Which reminds me that this week is the monthly meeting of our local Pagan Writers Guild. We really have a good time there, sharing our work and working on little writing excercises together. Creativity is one of the nectars of life.....mmmm mmmm
mystic
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Post by Phalon on Mar 8, 2005 1:59:30 GMT -6
Just a bit more Horace before I have to return the book to the library.
Try not to guess what lies in the future, but, As Fortune deals days, enter them into your Life's book as windfalls, credit items, Gratefully. Now that you're young, and peevish
Grey hairs are still far distant, attend to the Dance-floor, the heart's sweet longings; for now is the Right time for midnight assignations....
from Odes Book I, IX
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Post by Phalon on Mar 8, 2005 2:02:09 GMT -6
Just one more tonight, I promise....
Be wise, strain clear the wine And prune the rambling vine
Of expectation. Life's short. Even while We talk Time, grudging, runs a mile. Don't trust tomorrow's bough For fruit. Pluck this, here, now.
from Odes Book I, XI
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 8, 2005 19:20:45 GMT -6
How about, after posting a poem, someone rewrites it in plain english... I sometimes have no clue of what they're saying or trying to say.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 8, 2005 19:38:11 GMT -6
Be wise, strain clear the wine And prune the rambling vine Of expectation. Life's short. Even while We talk Time, grudging, runs a mile. Don't trust tomorrow's bough For fruit. Pluck this, here, now. from Odes Book I, XI I believe this one is saying, baisically, get rid of the unimportant crap in your life. Strain out the things that cloud your mind or block your path and seize the day because life is short.
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 8, 2005 19:56:57 GMT -6
Funny how I can "read" that in there now, but was lost before...
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 8, 2005 19:58:33 GMT -6
I was like that with Shakespeare at first. But then when someone would explain it I would totally get it. And now that I understand the language better it's a peice of cake. Just takes practice I think.
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 8, 2005 20:23:24 GMT -6
I have some books of works by Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, and Edgar Allan Poe... but I've opened them very little. I probably should get them off the shelf more often.
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prmystic
Whooshite Apprentice
Posts: 225
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Post by prmystic on Mar 8, 2005 21:34:50 GMT -6
Ah, Emily Dickenson. Here's one of my favs:
Death sets a Thing significant The Eye had hurried by Except a perished Creature Entreat us tenderly
To ponder little Workmanships In Crayon or in Wool, With "This was last Her fingers did" - Industrious until -
The Thimble weighed too heavy - The stiches stopped - themselves - And then 'twas put among the Dust Upon the Closet shelves -
A Book I have - a friend gave - Whose Pencil - here and there - Had notched the place that pleased Him - At Rest - His fingers are -
Now - when I read - I read not - For interrupting Tears - Obliterate the Etchings Too Costly for Repairs.
One of the things I like about this poem is the very first two lines which seems to sum up the theme of the entire poem, that grief makes the smallest, least important objects suddenly extremely important. This, even to the point that the author (I think) uses capitalization to indicate strong emotional feeling about significant words. For example even in the first line "thing" becomes "Thing" just as an object formerly unimportant becomes an object of great significance.
It's difficult, but fascinating to study the work of Ms. Dickenson, for the simple reason that the author left no indication of her meaning and seemed to have gone out of her way to hide it. Yet her work DRIPS with it.
Try reading it as though your mental fingers were running over each word and pausing dramatically, pausing with grief, over each word capitalized that does not also start the line.
mystic
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 8, 2005 22:18:48 GMT -6
I have been feeling the "little Things" big time the past few days, as one of my cats suddenly and unexpectedly died on the 3rd.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 8, 2005 23:22:13 GMT -6
I'm so sorry for your loss Jox....care to talk about it?
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Post by Phalon on Mar 8, 2005 23:40:28 GMT -6
Oh, Joxie! I can only imagine how you feel. Losing a pet is so difficult, and I'm sorry you are experiencing it. Hugs.
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 8, 2005 23:41:03 GMT -6
Well... I wasn't aware that a cat could die from stress, but I learned the hard way that they apparently can. He's been to the vet many times before, but the trip on the 3rd stressed him out, and when we got home he died.
When he was acting like he wanted to throw up but couldn't and was foaming at the mouth, Mom called the vet and they said to let him find a place where he felt safe so that he could calm down. But he was way too stressed and after he died Mom called the vet again, and the vet said that in some cases fluid builds up and has no where to go... so I guess you could say he drown. Anyway, I was not expecting to lose him and it has hit me really hard. I couldn't do anything but watch him die, and I think that's what hurts the most.
I found him one day when I went to the mailbox. He was around 4 to 6 weeks old. I would have had him 6 years this July. This is the first time I've had housecats that never went outside, so I was more attached than usual.
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Post by Scrappy Amazon on Mar 8, 2005 23:43:41 GMT -6
Wow. That's tough Jox. I'm sorry.
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 9, 2005 0:02:40 GMT -6
Thanks guys... The day he died was rough, and so was Sunday... as he always climbed into bed with me and cuddled to prevent me from getting up and getting ready for Church... and then he'd follow me around while I was getting dressed, begging to be held to try and distract me. I stayed home and cried, so I guess he succeeded in keeping me home this once. He's probably pretty pleased with himself... and I think his name fit him perfectly.
El Diablo Azul aka The Blue Devil aka "Blue"
Click on my siggy and you can see photos of him.
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Post by guru on Mar 9, 2005 0:55:13 GMT -6
THE LITTLE CAT ANGEL Leontine Stanfield
The ghost of a little white kitten Crying mournfully, early and late, Distracted Saint Peter the watchman As he guarded the heavanly gate. "Say, what do you mean," said his saintship, "Coming here and behaving like that?" "I want to see Nellie, my missus," Sobbed the wee little ghost of a cat. "I know she's not happy without me - Won't you open and let me go in?" "Begone!" gasped the horrified watchman, "Why, the very idea is a sin; I open the gate to good angels, Not to stray little beggars like you." "Alright," mewed the little white kitten, "Tho' a cat I'm a good angel, too." Amazed at so bold an assertion But aware he must make no mistake, In silence Saint Peter long pondered For his name and repute were at stake. Then placing the cat in his bosom With a "Whist now and say all your prayers," He opened the heavenly portals And ascended the bright golden stairs. A little girl angel came flying, "That's my kitty, Saint Peter!" she cried. And seeing the joy of their meeting, Peter let the cat angel abide.
This tale is the tale of a kitten Dwelling now with the blessed above. It vanquished grim death and High Heaven For the name of the kitten was Love.
(We are all with you, Joxcee.)
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Post by Joxcenia on Mar 9, 2005 1:39:16 GMT -6
Thanks Guru... Lovely poem.
I have so many beloved pets waiting for me at the Pearly Gates that Saint Peter may charge me an arm and a leg to let them in. And they're so worth the tears... but I forget that when they first leave me and I think my hearts going to break from not being able to hold them anymore.
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prmystic
Whooshite Apprentice
Posts: 225
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Post by prmystic on Mar 9, 2005 10:46:06 GMT -6
hey Joxie,
So sorry about the loss of your kitty. Sounds like the years that he had with you were awesome and that he was well loved.
It must have been his heart that directed him to your mail box and to all those years of cherishing.
I picked up my dog at 7-11 years ago. He'd been abandoned there for more than a month. It was a day of below freezing temperatures and I just wanted to get a coffee before work. I *didn't* need a dog!
But he got past me and into the car before I could sqeeze into my door. I was impressed with the little vagabond's skill. I let him stay in the car while I was at work, with some blankets and some water, then took him home and got him his shots and neutered. We've been together since.
Those homeless roamers need us. I'm glad yours found you.
<a toast to Joxie, and the love she provided to a homeless kitten>
mystic
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