Today's poet

[freckle]

One off poet your fantastic. Didn't know you were a big plath fan Mossy. Is the cemetery comment regarding your like of some would call morose poets ?.On that point i totally disagree i find plath fascinating,flawed,beautiful and a genius but not morose. My wife bought me The Bell Jar really interesting read regarding mental breakdown. Highly Recommended.

Mmmm not sure I would use the term morose...I do like Plath and Sexton, I find it quite therapeautic to read their work if I am feeling quite low myself, in fact I remember feeling a palpable sense of relief when I first starting reading the Bell Jar, although I have to confess I didn't get round to finishing it ( i did watch the Plath film tho v good)...I think her work is dark but certainly also fascinating and beautiful.

[stevefoster]

Been following the rise of poetry on the forum. I've never written a poem before, nor have I ever felt the urge to until recently whilst lingering over a coffee on a cold cold morning. Just happened to have a notebook in front of me (full of tedious to-do lists) and off I went!

Am a bit shy about this, hence the new username, but I know there are people who can identify with some or all of the verses below.

Getting Round

Thoughts of why have long since gone
Nine hours gone, fifteen to come
That early talk of pace and plans
Has given way to destiny's hands
As autopilot lifts a leg
Our hero is cajouled and fed
Whilst one by one the peaks slip past
Each heavier than the last

Wishes and hopes have never left
The others that won't see their beds
Guesswork and sustenance are made
Is he well up, or rain-delayed?
Cars are parked and necks are craned
Food on, chair out, mood up, tea made
Is that a rock, or is that him?
Today the two are kin

That time ago, this just a seed
Exploring which advice to heed
The first of many a slipperly slope
That faces all who dare to hope...
...and plan, and train and organise,
Obsess of bearings, schedule times
To study every inch of ground
And dream of getting round

Bloody Marvellous
Bedtime beckons, night all, pleasant dreams

[Harry H Howgill]

Bloody Marvellous
Bedtime beckons, night all, pleasant dreams

Night night all

[Mossdog]

Depends how you understand the term morose. If it's 'sullen and ill-tempered' then maybe. I think Gigolo has a very angry angle to it, particularly if she was referring to Ted Hughe's many affaires.


Gigolo

Pocket watch, I tick well.
The streets are lizardy crevices
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac,

A palace of velvet
With windows of mirrors.
There one is safe,
There are no family photographs,

No rings through the nose, no cries.
Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women
Gulp at my bulk
And I, in my snazzy blacks,

Mill a litter of breasts like jellyfish.
To nourish
The cellos of moans I eat eggs -
Eggs and fish, the essentials,

The aphrodisiac squid.
My mouth sags,
The mouth of Christ
When my engine reaches the end of it.

The tattle of my
Gold joints, my way of turning
Bitches to ripples of silver
Rolls out a carpet, a hush.

And there is no end, no end of it.
I shall never grow old. New oysters
Shriek in the sea and I
Glitter like Fontainebleau

Gratified,
All the fall of water and eye
Over whose pool I tenderly
Lean and see me.

[Nathaniel Lee]

Sorry if i wasn't clear i feel some people think that because of the suicide.I can relate to her through my own experiences and also one's we have both had to suffer.

[freckle]

Depends how you understand the term morose. If it's 'sullen and ill-tempered' then maybe. I think Gigolo has a very angry angle to it, particularly if she was referring to Ted Hughe's many affaires.


Gigolo

Pocket watch, I tick well.
The streets are lizardy crevices
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac,

A palace of velvet
With windows of mirrors.
There one is safe,
There are no family photographs,

No rings through the nose, no cries.
Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women
Gulp at my bulk
And I, in my snazzy blacks,

Mill a litter of breasts like jellyfish.
To nourish
The cellos of moans I eat eggs -
Eggs and fish, the essentials,

The aphrodisiac squid.
My mouth sags,
The mouth of Christ
When my engine reaches the end of it.

The tattle of my
Gold joints, my way of turning
Bitches to ripples of silver
Rolls out a carpet, a hush.

And there is no end, no end of it.
I shall never grow old. New oysters
Shriek in the sea and I
Glitter like Fontainebleau

Gratified,
All the fall of water and eye
Over whose pool I tenderly
Lean and see me.

I think their relationship is interesting I would like to understand it more before i comment, this is another interesting choice Mossy, thank you for posting

[freckle]

Sorry if i wasn't clear i feel some people think that because of the suicide.I can relate to her through my own experiences and also one's we have both had to suffer.

Not at all Matt...we are singing from the same hymn sheet i think

Well, think its time for me to turn in too folks its been another nice night on the thread, very lively and its always great to see new folk posting here...long may it continue!.....good night all and see you tomorrow sweet dreams

[Nathaniel Lee]

Years

They enter as animals from the outer
Space of holly where spikes
Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi,
But greenness, darkness so pure
They freeze and are.
O God, I am not like you
In your vacuous black,
Stars stuck all over, bright stupid confetti.
Eternity bores me,
I never wanted it.

What I love is
The piston in motion . . .
My soul dies before it.
And the hooves of the horses,
There merciless churn.

And you, great Stasis . . .
What is so great in that!
Is it a tiger this year, this roar at the door?
It is a Christus,
The awful
God-bit in him
Dying to fly and be done with it?
The blood berries are themselves, they are very still.

The hooves will not have it,
In blue distance the pistons hiss.




Sylvia Plath


This is a real favourite of mine as you can judge her dislike of eternity in two ways depending on her emotions.

[Nathaniel Lee]

Is that you xrunner hiding in the shadows ?. Are you the brilliant new mystery poet ?. You seem very knowledgeable regards poetry is it job related or are you well educated. Shame no one had a crack at text speak poem i did today.

[freckle]

Good morning all, another snow fall during the night up here, looks nice for a little trot out...Tri i started trying to decipher your text poem but got distracted, any chance you can translate? ....and now for something completely different....have a lovely day one and all....

Love Song

How shall I hold on to my soul, so that
it does not touch yours? How shall I lift
it gently up over you on to other things?
I would so very much like to tuck it away
among long lost objects in the dark
in some quiet unknown place, somewhere
which remains motionless when your depths resound.
And yet everything which touches us, you and me,
takes us together like a single bow,
drawing out from two strings but one voice.
On which instrument are we strung?
And which violinist holds us in the hand?
O sweetest of songs.

Rainer Maria Rilke
New Poems: c. 1907