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Old 02-06-2017, 03:06 PM   #601
greenmountaineer
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Excellent point, ishtat. Everything else is about body language. I haven't changed the original yet because I'm a number of possibilities through my mind. I'm also aware that there isn't an effective seque from women as plural to woman as singular.

I value your criticisms, even the "tiddly" ones, should you share them.
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Old 02-09-2017, 02:06 PM   #602
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Trying to Say His Breviary

White is white, black is black;
God is good, sex is bad,
except for marriage, the sacrament,

is what I am supposed to keen
behind my daresay sliding screen
or in my homily.

But, oh my Gosh, Deacon Joe
is hotter than an altar boy
who's reached the age of majority.

Dear God, Dear God, I did not want
this cross I bear, but I am not
a monk in a monastery.
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Old 02-11-2017, 03:26 PM   #603
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Reading the Decameron

No Dante's they, Bocaccio's bawdy tales:
Filippa dares guffaw
Rinaldo, cuckold, seventh tale,
who wails Filippa epithets,
no joie de vivre,
his dirge composed in minor scales of woe.

The Plague, I know, was rife,
but awe inspires.
Why mock wedlock's cruel demise?
Oh Dante, from that hellish life
of rat fleas, pox, and whoring wives,
pray take me to your paradise!!
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Old 02-13-2017, 12:45 PM   #604
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Limerick for Ogden Nash

There once was a poet some thought fantastic
whose droll sense of humor wasn’t romantic.
And if I was a fly
by his bed by the by,
my ommatidia would see nothing drastic.
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Old 02-15-2017, 12:04 PM   #605
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Trouble for Bucko

After that night with Ha.nh Phu'c in Saigon
I praised Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior,
who showed me the way with penicillin
I like to joke with my leatherneck buddies,
Smitty and Jerry, down at Moe's Diner
who help me redo my man cave on weekends,

and I always make sure the little woman
who knows how to chop chop in bed and the kitchen
fries up some eggs, sausage, and bacon
so Smitty, Jerry, and yours truly
can work our Semper Fi asses off,
until after supper we all do our thing,

Smitty bridge and a beer with the Missus,
me on the prowl in the city,
and Jerry, well, whatever he's doing.
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Old 02-17-2017, 09:51 AM   #606
greenmountaineer
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Black Mountain

Another buckeye fell yesterday.
I swear it feels like November
on Black Mountain in Kentucky,
no matter what the calendar says.

Today is September 13th deranged,
gaunt as a stick figure is.
That leafless maple might as well face
a photograph of the sun.

Two more catfish lie belly up
in a pond next to a heave-ho truck,
one among many coal chutes to

flat bed barges on the Ohio
whose waters look black when overcast
and brown at best under the sun.

And yet, there is something to be said
about providing for coal dust faces,
too often cold, too often grayish,

whose black ant fathers tuck them in
with bedtime stories of worker bees
that fly into holes to make honey
in black mountain veins of Kentucky.
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Old 02-17-2017, 10:10 AM   #607
AlwaysHungry
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Quote:
Originally Posted by greenmountaineer View Post
Black Mountain

Another buckeye fell yesterday.
I swear it feels like November
on Black Mountain in Kentucky,
no matter what the calendar says.

Today is September 13th deranged,
gaunt as a stick figure is.
That leafless maple might as well face
a photograph of the sun.

Two more catfish lie belly up
in a pond next to a heave-ho truck,
one among many coal chutes to

flat bed barges on the Ohio
whose waters look black when overcast
and brown at best under the sun.

And yet, there is something to be said
about providing for coal dust faces,
too often cold, too often grayish,

whose black ant fathers tuck them in
with bedtime stories of worker bees
that fly into holes to make honey
in black mountain veins of Kentucky.
I like this one, though I was uncertain about what kind of Buckeye fell and why. Maybe that's the good kind of uncertainty.
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Old 02-17-2017, 10:33 AM   #608
greenmountaineer
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Quote:
Originally Posted by AlwaysHungry View Post
I like this one, though I was uncertain about what kind of Buckeye fell and why. Maybe that's the good kind of uncertainty.
The tree after which the football team from Ohio State is nicknamed.
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Old Yesterday, 10:01 AM   #609
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The Children's Poet Laureate

So why do I write mostly rhymes
for five or six year olds to hear?

Because they love the sound of lines
that never mind but please the ear

instead of caca fricative
fingernails scratching a blackboard.

Did you ever hear the sound of two clapped
erasers in the schoolyard

softly for Mrs. Winston who laughs
at powder on laughing faces?
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