Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable; I'm sorry. Thanks for the link, I'll check your poetry out.
Ten Minute Poetry Exercise
- Thread starter Bryan James
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Thanks for the reminders guys.We are... and thank you for the opportunity for us to post a reminder. It is absolutely fine for people to link to their poetry off-site, we have been talking about/reviewing whether it is okay to post original poetry in these threads and it has been decided from the top that people should only link to their work, rather than post to the threads from here on out--just to protect Stephen from any future legal issues.
Thanks everyone.
Well to be fair to you.... we hadn't had that conversation until the end of last week, remember? (And we were both letting poetry through to the threads.Yes, thanks for the reminder!
) 
not uncomfortable, per se, just that i dont think it's appropriate to focus on the poet when the work should stand on its own. i honestly dont feel uncomfortable, only that you are not getting an accurate picture of me by merely reading my work. in the case of stephen king, for an example we can all relate to, you might determine that he is a psychopath or unstable based on his work, but we know this is not the case. he detaches himself in a personal way from his writing, while at the same time relating to it on the most personal level... as part of the audience.
i hope im not seeming to make too much of this, because i have not been offended yet and dont expect to be. just a good excuse to have a conversation lol.
Roses for my friend unmaker. The first, is a huge and fragrant climbing rose, actually known by its common name, Peace. The second rose is my absolute favorite, David Austin Heirloom rose. It has double the number of petals and is fragrant, an old time rose scent that haunts my dreams.
No excuse for a conversation needed. I enjoy the palaver. I do focus on the person, it is built into my wiring, cannot mentally separate the person from the work he or she has written. But in doing so, do not judge the persons core being.
Who am I to figure out crazy? I'm not inclined or qualified professionally, only listen to the gray area of my 'gut feelings'. Your poetry is great, expressive and vivid. Look forward to reading some more
No excuse for a conversation needed. I enjoy the palaver. I do focus on the person, it is built into my wiring, cannot mentally separate the person from the work he or she has written. But in doing so, do not judge the persons core being.
Who am I to figure out crazy? I'm not inclined or qualified professionally, only listen to the gray area of my 'gut feelings'. Your poetry is great, expressive and vivid. Look forward to reading some more
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On War
A young woman stands with a flag-waving hand
supporting the war we fight in the sand
she knows this is right, it's the patriot's say
to side with the troops in an activist way.
The young lady stands with tears that keep falling,
observing her brother, who answered the calling,
he fell in the sand to an enemy mortar,
now they lay him to rest in Arlington's quarters.
We support freedom's ring, as we know it is right,
but it costs us the warrior's blood sacrifice.
It was written for my brother, who was standing next to a person that was killed in a mortar attack. People actually had the nerve to tell me I had something wrong with me just because I was terrified every single day that he was there and that sometimes it spilled into my work and other places in my life that I wanted to be free of hyper-paranoid-hysteria.
My brother went to Iraq in March, 2003. His unit was attacked with mortars so much that to relieve the tension they renamed one of their eateries on the base 'Mortaritaville.' It upset my brother because he's never had gallows humor. I have pictures of all this stuff, some of it online, but I have no idea how to transfer the photos.
I find it hard to believe all this happened and I lived it from the viewpoint of 'someone back home.' Sitting there in nail-biting tension hoping he would return.
A young woman stands with a flag-waving hand
supporting the war we fight in the sand
she knows this is right, it's the patriot's say
to side with the troops in an activist way.
The young lady stands with tears that keep falling,
observing her brother, who answered the calling,
he fell in the sand to an enemy mortar,
now they lay him to rest in Arlington's quarters.
We support freedom's ring, as we know it is right,
but it costs us the warrior's blood sacrifice.
It was written for my brother, who was standing next to a person that was killed in a mortar attack. People actually had the nerve to tell me I had something wrong with me just because I was terrified every single day that he was there and that sometimes it spilled into my work and other places in my life that I wanted to be free of hyper-paranoid-hysteria.
My brother went to Iraq in March, 2003. His unit was attacked with mortars so much that to relieve the tension they renamed one of their eateries on the base 'Mortaritaville.' It upset my brother because he's never had gallows humor. I have pictures of all this stuff, some of it online, but I have no idea how to transfer the photos.
I find it hard to believe all this happened and I lived it from the viewpoint of 'someone back home.' Sitting there in nail-biting tension hoping he would return.
Poetry does not need anything, much less the constraints of rhyme.
Words, shapes, ideas, thought patterns, stuff that just wants to GET OUT.
Anyone can do this, and everyone should.
~~~
Stone Shallow Blue
Stone Shallow Blue
I walked upon your toast
And seemingly it seemed
As I bled on my keyboard
That you were more than real
When you left me.
Words, shapes, ideas, thought patterns, stuff that just wants to GET OUT.
Anyone can do this, and everyone should.
~~~
Stone Shallow Blue
Stone Shallow Blue
I walked upon your toast
And seemingly it seemed
As I bled on my keyboard
That you were more than real
When you left me.
So yea or nay on posting the poetry here or only on linked-to off-site pages?
Very good question... one I am going to leave up to Marsha. [ Moderator ]
In the mean time please don't post any more poetry in here, but linking to something off-site will be fine. Thanks.
My farts lie thinly in the sand,
On the beach of our unmaking,
And verily stood
A castle of food,
I lie, t'was constipation.
On the beach of our unmaking,
And verily stood
A castle of food,
I lie, t'was constipation.
Neesy
#1 fan (Annie Wilkes cousin) 1st cousin Mom's side
