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Poetics and Poetry Discussion

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  • Janice M Pickett (4/6/2005 2:31:00 PM) Post reply

    Actually PH has written quite a few rhymes and some really good dogerrel in the past. I think he has more talent than he lets on.

  • Clark Keeler (4/6/2005 1:53:00 PM) Post reply

    how's it going everyone? im a new member... so i'm definately open for any kind of criticism... maybe ill hear from you soon.

  • Poetry Hound (4/6/2005 11:50:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    I've been inspired to write a little poem. Here it is:

    A Servant Is...

    A friend is someone on his knees
    For my own sake and just to please.
    He answers to my every whim
    And I do nothing back for him.
    Oh how he works, his back will break
    Cause all I do is take and take
    His views of things I never hear
    I'm busy looking in the mirror

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  • Herbert Nehrlich1 (4/6/2005 7:17:00 AM) Post reply

    What's a Friederich?
    H

  • Scarborough Gypsy (4/6/2005 5:27:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi Adam,

    I think the most straight forward way is to click on 'Home'. Click on 'Submit New Poem'. That will bring up a list of options. Choose 'Edit Pictures' and that will take you to another window that allows you to add photo's. Cool hey? I tried but I only have really big photo's of me! !

    Cheers
    Gyp's

  • Scarborough Gypsy (4/6/2005 4:33:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi everyone,

    Can anyone identify who that picture is really of, that is posted next to the Biography of R.C Abbekka? ? I mean, it's not really him is it?

    Blonde/cute/dense
    Gypsy

  • Herbert Nehrlich1 (4/5/2005 10:16:00 PM) Post reply

    I had a dream a while ago. Though, it must be stated that I was not asleep.
    Let me tell you about it. It was a dream of hope, of promise and of -peace.
    Mostly of peace.
    There was a scrawny boy named Saul who sounded a bit out of it, looked a bit unwashed yet wasn't bothered by it too much.
    One day, Saul decided that he was bored. Bored to the point where it itched at first and later progressed to outright pain.

    So, with limited choices available, he went through the immediate neighbourhood, looking for things to do that would relieve his boredom and bring some long-overdue excitement.
    So he shat all over the property of others, leaving substantial and smelly deposits everywhere he thought they would look good and attract attention.

    He then shouted at the residents the moment he spotted them behind their drapes
    of innocence, showering them with the foulest language imaginable.

    He made some enemies of course but he also attracted some 'friends', the type of friend who dwell on the misery of others and who feel that a morbid fascination with the 'unusual' was the thing to have.
    Since he regularly ran out of substance to deposit he returned to the scenes of his crimes again and again, always attracting a few more friends and enemies.
    Well, after a while it got boring, so he concenbtrated on the game of throwing pebbles at windows, hitting a few and causing ever repeating commotions. He would hide in the dark and thus avoid detection. Some of his friends decided that they wanted to impress Saul, so they started coming on these outings with him. They loved throwing these pebbles so much that, when they ran out of pebbles they used turds.
    And what a game it was!

    And then, something happened. My memory is unclear but here is how it progressed:
    On a Saturday morning, Saul went to all the places he had 'honoured' and surveyed the damage.
    All the excrement was still there and they still smelled.
    So Saul went to the Hardware store for supplies. He bought brushes, sponges, buckets, mops, brooms and disinfectant. Then he spent as much time as it took to clean up his little world.
    And on Sunday morning, he stood back and said to himself: 'Yes'. And he felt good, and clean of soul and spirit. And then it occurred to him that there might be a place in this world for him after all.
    And then he wondered about that.
    And he thought that maybe, these people would want him to say a few words but then he decided against it, knowing that he might say the wrong thing. 'Let my deeds speak for themselves', he said and that was what he decided in the end.

    And that was the end of the dream. Will keep you posted if there are sequels.
    H

  • Herbert Nehrlich1 (4/5/2005 9:11:00 PM) Post reply

    I think you may have missed something I said.
    H

  • ***** ***** (4/5/2005 10:55:00 AM) Post reply

    Is it possible to write a poem backwards? ! ! I don't mean write it straight and then switch, I mean write it in a way that you imagine each line to begin with its ending... now THAT's strange.. smile.. I will try, but I'm not sure.. Sx

  • Herbert Nehrlich1 (4/5/2005 8:27:00 AM) Post reply

    Sherrie, your words are appreciated but I am afraid you are assessing the situation incorrectly.
    If management of this site allows the last remark of him to go unpunished I will have lost all faith in them.
    And if no one objects to a message like that to appear here, where we ought to be discussing poetry, then I will know what to think of the caliber of our membership.
    It is not so much that I am personally involved, having been made a target because I stood up for a friend, I would not sit idly by if anyone else were being attacked like this.
    If it is acceptable to say what England said today then the world is indeed a pretty sad place.
    H

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