Free Association Thread 5

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by Tio_Narratore

previously known as...

You can't go back to Constantinople

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

You can't go back to Constantinople

Now it's Istanbul . . .

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

Now it's Istanbul . . .

The Four Lads

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

The Four Lads

I remember hearing this on the radio as a kid.

[Tio_Narratore]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

I remember hearing this on the radio as a kid.

crystal radio kits

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by Tio_Narratore

crystal radio kits

Cat's Whisker

[JKendallDane]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

Cat's Whisker

The fog comes in on little cat feet.

.

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by JKendallDane

The fog comes in on little cat feet.

.

Carl Sandburg? Or was it T S Eliot?

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

Carl Sandburg? Or was it T S Eliot?

Sandburg

Poetry is a bit of a closed book to me.

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

Sandburg

Poetry is a bit of a closed book to me.

Try a bit of Roger McGough. Or Seamus Heaney. And read it aloud.

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

Try a bit of Roger McGough. Or Seamus Heaney. And read it aloud.

"There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee."

Robert W. Service.

This kind of poetry I can handle.
Similarly, Kipling.
The modern declamatory rubbish is simply rather painful.

[MagicaPractica]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

"There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee."

Robert W. Service.

This kind of poetry I can handle.
Similarly, Kipling.
The modern declamatory rubbish is simply rather painful.

I writes what I writes, mostly free verse. Occasionally a villanelle or a sonnet.

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by MagicaPractica

I writes what I writes, mostly free verse. Occasionally a villanelle or a sonnet.

You got me there, Mags. I had to Google 'villanelle'. Maybe they didn't have them when I went to school.

[MagicaPractica]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

You got me there, Mags. I had to Google 'villanelle'. Maybe they didn't have them when I went to school.

Ha, I once was paid good money for writing a villanelle, and I've never done it again. They are treacherous.

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by MagicaPractica

Ha, I once was paid good money for writing a villanelle, and I've never done it again. They are treacherous.

As before mentioned, never heard of it.
Perhaps you would elucidate please ?

[MagicaPractica]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

As before mentioned, never heard of it.
Perhaps you would elucidate please ?

Oy, do I hafta? I'm not sharing the one I wrote. It's still out there somewhere with my real pen name on it. However, here's what it said when I did a search.

"A villanelle is a fixed form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain and also follows a specific rhyme scheme using only two different sounds. A tercet is a stanza with only three lines, and a quatrain is a stanza with four lines."

A famous example would be . . .

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night,

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night,

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by MagicaPractica

Oy, do I hafta? I'm not sharing the one I wrote. It's still out there somewhere with my real pen name on it. However, here's what it said when I did a search.

"A villanelle is a fixed form poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain and also follows a specific rhyme scheme using only two different sounds. A tercet is a stanza with only three lines, and a quatrain is a stanza with four lines."

A famous example would be . . .

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night,

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night,

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Gosh! And here was me thinking that young Mr Thomas just wanted to sneak a few extra words into the last stanza.

[Handley_Page]

Thank you, Mags, for the lesson in modern poetry.

I still prefer this sort of thing:-

YOU may talk o' gin an' beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But if it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them black-faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.


Or this_

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

[JKendallDane]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

Thank you, Mags, for the lesson in modern poetry.

I still prefer this sort of thing:-

YOU may talk o' gin an' beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But if it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them black-faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.


Or this_

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

Jack and Jill ran up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water.

(Yes, I slept through most of my Lit classes in college. )

.

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by JKendallDane

Jack and Jill ran up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water.

(Yes, I slept through most of my Lit classes in college. )

.

Up Jack got, and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper;
To old Dame Dob, who patched his nob
With vinegar and brown paper.

Ain't medical science wonderful?

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

Up Jack got, and home did trot,
As fast as he could caper;
To old Dame Dob, who patched his nob
With vinegar and brown paper.

Ain't medical science wonderful?

Especially the radiation therapy for a tumour.
(we need a 'thumbs up' emoticon.)

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

Especially the radiation therapy for a tumour.
(we need a 'thumbs up' emoticon.)

Here you go, HP

Oops. Didn't work

[JKendallDane]

Originally Posted by Handley_Page

Especially the radiation therapy for a tumour.
(we need a 'thumbs up' emoticon.)

Maybe we should add Viagra to that list. But they really need to work on something for Alzheimer's also so we remember what to do with it when the little blue pill works.

.

[SamScribble]

Originally Posted by JKendallDane

Maybe we should add Viagra to that list. But they really need to work on something for Alzheimer's also so we remember what to do with it when the little blue pill works.

.

Little blue pill? I thought you said little white bull.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFhqLCLTQ-w

[Handley_Page]

Originally Posted by SamScribble

Little blue pill? I thought you said little white bull.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFhqLCLTQ-w

Another load of bull . . . .