The Poem Scrapbook Challenge

This is a challenge. You want it. It was requested. You know you want to do it. My challenges are ever so fun. Remember this one? How about this one? (OK, a 1-pager, but still fun). A few more challenges buzzing around here, some where, but I know no one has ever forgotten this one (I can still hear the PoBo calling me bastard for that one, however it was originally supposed to be 100 not 30).

But I digress. Let's get to the meat of this one, "The Poem Scrapbook Challenge". I've been here at Literotica off and on since I was 25, I am now 40. Wha? I know, right? Neo grew up here for sure and through that time, avatars and names have come and gone as they pleased. I've missed a quite of few of the ones who moved on, but I know they're not really gone. There are still pieces of them buried in the pages of PoBo and some of us have posted work on our Author's page. Their/our work is still there if they/we deleted an account (of course it's gone if they nuked it all by individual post deletion...which I have done and sorely regret). Gone, but not forgotten, right? We go back and read the old poems, be it someone else or maybe your own. It's good stuff sometimes not genius, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the memories, poetry-style, pictures we can look at later.

So, the challenge here is two-fold:


• ONE Fold, creating a poem scrapbook and I mean by book, more than one poem with some theme that ties your scrapbook together. This scrapbook must contain 10 poems, any style, any subject, accompanied with a photo or not, whatever and there is no deadline to get them done. Just get them written in a timely manner.

• TWO Fold, you cannot ever delete poems you put in this thread. Do not put poems here that you may want to publish later. These are poems that you or someone else can go back and reminisce, learn from and admire your work.

• Each poem should be newly written by you, the Poem Scrapbook maker. This a "scrapbook" (10 poem series) of newly written poems.

• The title of your poems do not have to contain the word "scrapbook".

• Put each poem in its own post. A Poem Scrapbook is 10 individual posts (pages).

• Remember each poem needs to be tied together for it to be considered a book. Some cohesion please and thanks.

• And to keep this challenge going, you can have more than one Poem Scrapbook, just finish the previous before starting a new one.

• Let's keep it about the poems please. Any chattiness, commentary can be done at The General Commentary thread because let's face it, chit needs to be said, that's how PoBo likes to roll.

• The most important rule is to have fun!


GOOD LUCK!



ETA: 10/10/17 Clarification of each poem should be newly written by the poet/poetess. Then the word "scrapbook" doesn't have to be in the poem title(s)
unless you want it to.




* * Special note, nothing is ever absolute because shit happens. Please and thank you: If you really need to self-destruct, contact a forum mod to have your posts removed. I really don't want to see any blank or filler posts in place of a good poem.

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 1



1

The world is all that is the case—
some parts are upper, others lower.
In some, existence is erased.
The world is all. That is the case
if you're elite or you're debased
enough to be your mother's lover.
The world: It's all that is the case.
Class-wise, you're upper or you're lower.




Die Welt ist alles, was der Fall ist.
Logische-Philosophische Abhandlung, Proposition 1

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 2



2

He lived in solitude up north,
for abstinence was just his style.
He built a hut on a fjord
and lived in solitude. Up north
came Moore to visit him—pay court,
effectively, and to compile
thoughts thought in solitude up north
where abstinence was life and style.




My day passes between logic, whistling, going for walks, and being depressed.
Letters to Russell, Keynes, and Moore

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 3



3: He must throw away the ladder

A metaphor. It's how we think
through concepts that are difficult.
Analogies can make things sink
in. Metaphors: They're how we think
and how we get our brains in sync,
how we, in fact, become adult,
by metaphors, which make us think
through concepts that are difficult.




Meine Sätze erläutern dadurch, dass sie der, welcher mich versteht,
am Ende als unsinnig erkennt, wenn er durch sie—auf ihnen—über sie
hinausgestiegen ist. (Er muss sozusagen die Leiter wegwerfen, nachdem er auf
ihr hinaufgestiegen ist.)
Logisch-philosophische Abhandlung, Proposition 6.54

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 4



4: The Haidbauer Incident

One day it's algebra. The next,
a feline skeleton is traced—
some understand, some are perplexed.
Today, it's algebra, what's next
are subjects even more complex,
but discipline left him disgraced,
so no more algebra, nor texts,
nor skeletons. That's all erased.




I am to be an elementary-school teacher in a tiny village called Trattenbach.
Letter to Bertrand Russell

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 5



5: Portrait of Margaret Stonborough-Wittgenstein

His sister's portrait, done by Klimt.
The background's abstract, like his thought—
so spare, so pure, but hard as flint
is Gretl's portrait, done by Klimt.
She did not like the pose, the crimp
of anxious hands, the hint she's fraught
in this her portrait, done by Klimt.
The background's abstract as her thoughts.




Gretl was acknowledged as the intellectual of the family, the one
who kept abreast of contemporary developments in the arts and sciences,
and the one most prepared to embrace new ideas and to challenge
the views of her elders.
Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 6



6: Marguerite Respinger

He sculpted her in terra cotta,
proposed, but it was not to be.
She once was his desiderata;
he sculpted her in terra cotta
but like a tragical sonata,
it ended on a minor key.
He sculpted her, in terra cotta.
Proposed. But it was not to be.




In Vienna often with Marguerite. Easter Sunday with her in Neuwaldegg.
For three hours we kissed each other a great deal and it was very nice.
Diary, 1930

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 7



7: Haus Wittgenstein

She wanted a new house and asked
her brother to be architect.
The doorknobs took two years. At last,
she wanted her new house. She asked
him when he would be done. He laughed
and said, It needs to be correct.
Then, wanting her new house, she tasked
her brother: Be an architect!




[T]here can be no architecture where there is nothing to glorify.
Culture and Value

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 8



8: Sonatina

We speak and play a kind of song;
imagination is its tune.
Our intellect then sings along,
for speech portrays a kind of song
that's sweet and sour and weak and strong
and one to which no one's immune.
So speak. And play the kind of song
imagination is—that tune.




Uttering a word is like striking a note on the keyboard of the imagination.
Philosophical Investigations, §6

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 9



9: The Duty of Genius

It casts a spell upon us all,
confounding rationality.
We use philosophy to cull
the Truth from all that's in the spell,
to insulate our souls, compel
that logic's used in enquiries.
A spell is cast. To us befalls
its counter—rationality.




Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language.
Philosophical Investigations, §109

Wittgenstein Scrapbook: 10



10: The Mystical

I am not dead. I cannot be,
for there's no "I" when I am not,
or so says my philosophy—
if one is dead, one cannot be.
Sometimes, this seems like sophistry,
a language-game that's run amok.
I am not dead. To you, maybe,
for there's no Ludwig where I'm not.





Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death.
If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then
eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Our life has no end in just
the way in which our visual field has no limits.
Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Proposition 6.4311

1-1

My dear friend who inspires me,
encourages and never brags,
but writes well (exponentially),
this dear friend who inspires me
and is known for formality,
whose poetry inspires me
unfortunately likes The Shaggs,
my dear friend who inspires me,
encourages and never brags.

Philately Scrapbook: 1



Scott Catalogue #1: 5¢ Benjamin Franklin, Red Brown (1847)

I always wonder about your hair,
thinning in front, but gracefully long
onto your shoulders.

Did you so charm les demoiselles de France
that they would deign to couple
with you, choosing charm

and status, brisk repartee as substitute
for a younger man's looks?
You give me hope, old man.

But as I am also old, and married,
I wonder what your Deborah thought
about you as you tarried.

.

1-2

We first met in those heady days
of Beatles, in that joyous time
of youth when music could amaze,
delight us in those heady days
when I thought I knew all her ways,
but now she thinks my life some crime
that decimates those heady days
of Beatles in that joyous time.

Philately Scrapbook: 2



Scott Catalogue #2955: 32¢ Richard Nixon,
Lithograph with Engraving (1995)

A whole page of him.


........It's like a bad acid trip,
........in Technicolor.

.

Creperie "framboise"

Hi Neo, congratulations on your idea for this comp and thanks! I only saw it last night during coffee time and I did these ten-poem series as one really, but trying to make each piece self-contained and without taking me far off from what I'm writing at the moment, i.e. my "LEMONIA PERFORCE" saga, therefore I submit it as part of it.

LEMONIA PERFORCE
ATHENS
WEDNESDAY MORNING
29/11/2017

CREPERIE "FRAMBOISE"

.