Another challenge?

butters

High on a Hill
Joined
Jul 2, 2009
Posts
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choose one line from another poet's piece (can be any poet, not necessarily one from Lit and credit the source), to be used in your write, or as the title, or riffed off as an idea... anyone want to play?

just post 'em up when you have them :cool:


well? don't just sit there staring at the screen, thinking all poetical thoughts - get creating :heart:
 
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They Burn the Heretics*

The horizon is broken,
Tall, stark sticks jut up into
a sky that has become
grey and muddled with
the mix of smoke from fires
that cannot distinguish
intended fuel from that
which has been left out
for it by less than
well-wishers.

*title lifted from a line in the shape of the the thing by butters
 
ooh, nicely done, Remec. very.

the whole thing is grey, greasy, charred, broken.... 'grey and muddled' is especially evocative :rose:
 
choose one line from another poet's piece (can be any poet, not necessarily one from Lit and credit the source), to be used in your write, or as the title, or riffed off as an idea... anyone want to play?

just post 'em up when you have them, no real deadline, just something to do before the end of the month.


well? don't just sit there staring at the screen, thinking all poetical thoughts - get creating :heart:

Forgive me my weariness O my Lord ( *This is a line from Nobel Prize winner Rabindranath Tagore's song)

I am weary of dirty politics
I am tired of Underworld-Police collusion
I am weary of greasin' palms constantly to get things done
I am weary of Lawyers tellin' lies to Judges
I am weary of Napalm bombs & Chemical weapons
I am weary of Rape & Child abuse
I am weary of MNCs degradin' environments
I am weary of Big Government spyin' on citizens
In short I am weary of this world Thou hast created
& we have corrupted
Please forgive me , if Thou canst .............Amen .......Om Shanti Om
 
ah, heavy, sad... weariness in every line, beyond the repetitions. comes across as prayer-like due to its format, and i think it's fair to use weariness instead of anger - anger's harder to sustain over a long period, the psyche grows tired. thanks for joining in, Ashesh :rose:
 
ah, heavy, sad... weariness in every line, beyond the repetitions. comes across as prayer-like due to its format, and i think it's fair to use weariness instead of anger - anger's harder to sustain over a long period, the psyche grows tired. thanks for joining in, Ashesh :rose:

Anger tends to burn itself out leaving you hollow or repaired but weary just wears you down for what feels like eternity, I agree with your breakdown wholeheartedly butters :)

Good to see you kicking round the forum ash.
 
there's a phrase i want to use, it speaks to me, but i can't seem to start the write. i want to do it properly, not a quickie. might save it for another day and choose a different line. *sighs*
 
Anger tends to burn itself out leaving you hollow or repaired but weary just wears you down for what feels like eternity, I agree with your breakdown wholeheartedly butters :)

Good to see you kicking round the forum ash.

hey, tods, getting a breather? :) hope time will permit you to join in here, no rush though :rose:
 
the phrase 'your delicate clockwork' taken from HarryHill's live write here



One-sided Conversation with a Poem


Hello

there

you wait

enduring

as space

travelers cross moments

centuries

to interface

renewing your timeline

do you know how very
cool
you are?
that is?

beyond your worlds

where still air

moves

where ice runs liquid

twilights and high noons hang

shadowless

the songs of birds

trees

enhance visions of wilderness

rock and dust and brackish pools

beyond all

that

or rather


below


do you understand
do you know
you are a thing made by man?

wrought by his mind

his hand?

and all your delicate clockwork

a beauty all its own

a heartbeat captured

coil so lightly sprung

those tiny jewels

the weight of light

your balance?

what inspiration is man!
what works are wrought!













--------------------------------------------------------------
i hope you don't feel i squandered the line, harry :kiss:
 
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the phrase 'your delicate clockwork' taken from HarryHill's live write here



One-sided Conversation with a Poem


Hello

there

you wait

enduring

as space

travelers cross moments

centuries

to interface

renewing your timeline

do you know how very
cool
you are?
that is?

beyond your worlds

where still air

moves

where ice runs liquid

twilights and high noons hang

shadowless

the songs of birds

trees

enhance visions of wilderness

rock and dust and brackish pools

beyond all

that

or rather


below


do you understand
do you know
you are a thing made by man?

wrought by his mind

his hand?

and all your delicate clockwork

a beauty all its own

a heartbeat captured

coil so lightly sprung

those tiny jewels

the weight of light

your balance?

what inspiration is man!
what works are wrought!


--------------------------------------------------------------
i hope you don't feel i squandered the line, harry :kiss:
:rose: .. Beautiful butters, honored that you would find inspiration in one of my lines. I find the title, after reading a couple of times, was so succinct as to be a trifle embarrassing because it is a poetic comment on my poem. Better go work on mine, I'm stuck at the moment, have five lines rhyming and I'm only putting it off.
 
:rose: .. Beautiful butters, honored that you would find inspiration in one of my lines. I find the title, after reading a couple of times, was so succinct as to be a trifle embarrassing because it is a poetic comment on my poem. Better go work on mine, I'm stuck at the moment, have five lines rhyming and I'm only putting it off.
ETA: Grrr! stuck, headed to town for whisky n pepsi, maybe the drive will help.
 
Fay Song

From 'Bridal Song' Percy Bysshe Shelly
..
'Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her,'
safe in hidden bowers deeper,
than any harm could ever reach.

Oh found treasures searching hands,
reaching from those distant lands,
hold a heart toward that distant gleem.

There a Fay dreams of other worlds
where she reclines on silken vines
strung t'ween oak tree posts between
limestone cliffs sweet water streams
in falls of showering liquid pearls

How this rare nascent luster mine,
found through luck that seems devine,
all a part of some cosmic vast design
binds two through vacant space and time.


Harder than I thought (edit 12:47)
 
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From 'Bridal Song' Percy Bysshe Shelly
..
'Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her,'
safe in hidden bowers deeper,
than any harm could ever reach.

Oh found treasures searching hands,
reaching from those distant lands,
hold a heart t'ward that distant gleem.

There a Fay dreams of other worlds
where she reclines on silken vines
strung t'ween oak tree posts between
limestone cliffs sweet water streams
in falls of showering liquid pearls

How this rare nascent luster mine,
found through luck that seems devine,
all a part of some cosmic vast design
binds two through all space and time.


Harder than I thought
good one 'arry
an inverted sonnet
caudated in the middle

but WTF is a t'ward?
(shudders to think)
I believe in most cases it is tôrd anyway and not t(ə)ˈwôrd
the contraction is a distraction
so says F'ck D'ddy Gee
 
takes a little more work than the live-writes, doesn't it? :D

so many images there i recognise!
*sips - raises cup*
lovely

an inverted sonnet
caudated in the middle
now thank Lit for 1201, because that bypassed me altogether. embarrassing, but true.
 
good one 'arry
an inverted sonnet
caudated in the middle

but WTF is a t'ward?
(shudders to think)
I believe in most cases it is tôrd anyway and not t(ə)ˈwôrd
the contraction is a distraction
so says F'ck D'ddy Gee
..
Sonnet? *shudders*
toward mr G
Last line sux too
caudated: a new word... a tail?
and ty I think lol
 
takes a little more work than the live-writes, doesn't it? :D

so many images there i recognise!
*sips - raises cup*
lovely


now thank Lit for 1201, because that bypassed me altogether. embarrassing, but true.
I embarrass myself on a regular basis
advise same to all
 
anyone else going to take a shot at this? :cool:
The last line is a gift from smithpeter via Angeline, thus the echo's impression (also lifted from the same poem) of a friendly haunting from a friend. :kiss: Angie's poetic voice

Echo's Impression

When this heart beat that mystic measure
the peaks and valleys drew the line
pasted, punctuated with those incidents
of remarkable significance within the space
of a strip of paper, as narrow as a sliver of light
that shines between the horizontal
shadows of the blind and longer
than the time it takes to travel to the end.

The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centred your sight on zero
together we pondered that notion
to begin and answer this demand
coincidentally and somehow smiling,
invent a number for not quite yet.
 
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How Criminals Corrupt Society

anyone else going to take a shot at this? :cool:

When a bright'n sharp young Reporter
Wrote about political-Mafia links in a Newspaper
They kidnapped him
They starved him
They beat him
They threatened him
Then...............
They released him

A sadder'n a wiser man , he rose the morrow morn'
Now when Politicos'n criminals cooperate , he does'nt blow his horn !?!?!

* the second last line is from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's the Ancient Mariner
 
The last line is a gift from smithpeter via Angeline, thus the echo's impression (also lifted from the same poem) of a friendly haunting from a friend. :kiss: Angie's poetic voice

Echo's Impression

When this heart beat that mystic measure
the peaks and valleys drew the line
pasted, punctuated with those incidents
of remarkable significance within the space
of a strip of paper, as narrow as a sliver of light
that shines between the horizontal
shadows of the blind and longer
than the time it takes to travel to the end.


The universe began with the numerical
miracle of physics and biology
when you bent to the curve of Foucault’s
pendulum and centered your sight on zero
together we pondered that notion
to begin and answer this demand
coincidentally and somehow smiling,
invent a number for not quite yet.
and so the voice of poets gone lives on; thankyou for writing this, champers, and for linking to angeline's wonderful write. in yours, i especially like the part in bold - it has such a feel within my mouth as i speak the words, as if i could breathe those images and they would hang there, in front of my eyes, embodied by gas and moisture and your creativity. :rose:

When a bright'n sharp young Reporter
Wrote about political-Mafia links in a Newspaper
They kidnapped him
They starved him
They beat him
They threatened him
Then...............
They released him

A sadder'n a wiser man , he rose the morrow morn'
Now when Politicos'n criminals cooperate , he doesn't blow his horn !?!?!

* the second last line is from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's the Ancient Mariner
thankyou for taking part, ashesh! how cool is that, a line from the ancient mariner? words, that wait to reconnect again and again with the pilgrim as they wander timelines of discovery. and how cool the way you've taken it and brought it to bear in a modern-day tale of corruption and humanity. :rose:

looking forward to it, gm :rose:
 
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