The Critical Poet

de ville and elle

AmandaT — Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:35 am

Author: AmandaT

Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 8:35 am

Hi Laverne

Thanks for commenting. I wrote this ages ago and, to be honest, I can't bear to read it again!

It's nice of you to take the time on it.

Amanda

Terzanka Rimaku

Laverne Pacquire — Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:48 am

Author: Laverne Pacquire

Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:48 am

boardflak wrote:

Yikes...
Okay, this has the Terza Rima's rhyming scheme throughout. Each tercet is a Haiku's 5-7-5 syllables. The finish is the Tanka's paired 7-syllable lines. The length is not fixed, by the way, just as a Terza Rima does not have a fixed length.

Early Spring Aside

bitter wind outside
whipping in the new-leafed trees
feeds an urge to hide

more than a mild breeze
branches twist and dance aloft
cold enough to freeze

contrasts as so oft
outside a blustery day
inside warm and soft

no voices calling away
nowhere else to be today

What's Love Got to Do With It? (explicit content)

rucieree — Fri Jul 30, 2010 8:20 pm

Author: rucieree

Posted: Fri Jul 30, 2010 8:20 pm

Andy:

Call me the cock police, but when your poetry evokes more discussions on the "cock" than the writer-about-cocks, or what's written about the cocks, I worry. �I personally, like the candor of the language, but worry about how it seems to lead the discussions away from your poems. �Own the sexual references, Andy. �I suspect that most of us have heard the vernacular of the penis, testicles, labia, vagina, private parts, dicks, balls, cohones, junk, stuff, cunt (how I, as a woman HAAAAAATE that word). �I suspect that most of us have taken a turn at having sex, too, so we don't need to assume we're in the schoolyard.

It's distracting to me that I'm never sure if your point is to shock us or move us.

Not every penis (or cock, if you prefer) to mouth convergence leads to poetry. �Not every penis (or cock, if you prefer) to mouth convergence is just sex.

I just think it's so 70's to make one's cock, or someone else's, the point, well, if you will.

Tell us which one is which, or tell us which one we should care about.

With all due reciprocal candor.

rucieree

Lovers

OCTOGENARIAN — Thu Jul 29, 2010 5:02 pm

Author: OCTOGENARIAN

Posted: Thu Jul 29, 2010 5:02 pm

sorry but i didn't like this...too many worn phrases....nice vivid opening line though

today I saw the world

Zoe — Thu Jul 29, 2010 3:49 pm

Author: Zoe

Posted: Thu Jul 29, 2010 3:49 pm

Hey there my friend

as always you write with such depth, such commitment that
it leaves me a little out of breath (in a good way)

I have a couple of thoughts that may help to tighten this
piece; I'm not at my own lappy right now but will be back
later this evening.

Your pieces unfold slowly with time and that's a wonderful thing

love

Z.

Do U Mind?

Laverne Pacquire — Thu Jul 29, 2010 1:28 am

Author: Laverne Pacquire

Posted: Thu Jul 29, 2010 1:28 am

I want to see the curving S in every question
The hate - at every exclamation mark
If I remember correctly I �m �loose with curves� not �lose with curves�

If the time is right, I will fall to you - so close and tender, vulnerably

May the earth fall and quake with every grief
I want to enjoy you, the feeling somehow without relief
Your hate is well defined � but I don�t mind

Sipsey (final revision)

Goeszon — Wed Jul 28, 2010 5:15 pm

Author: Goeszon

Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 5:15 pm

Thank you I was holding my breath... my mother got it into my head that if you don't have something good to say don't say nothing at all etc it wasn't like I didn't have something nice to say your piece struck me in my uneducated mind thanks...

� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � Goeszon

_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Long ago a man of the world was defined as a man who in every serious crisis is invariably wrong.-Author unknown

Pretty Mead

AmandaT — Tue Jul 27, 2010 8:22 pm

Author: AmandaT

Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 8:22 pm

Hi asphara

Well you're certainly pretty versatile! You could get a job with Hallmark with this one.

It made me laugh so thank you

Amanda

A Rose

Laverne Pacquire — Tue Jul 27, 2010 4:55 pm

Author: Laverne Pacquire

Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 4:55 pm

Roses in aisles conceived in the sun;
At first, a sight for sore eyes and the mind is spun;
In the secret place for meditation;
I saw and attended the most beautiful and wondrous spring creation;
Rich waters roamed over the abundance of good lovers;
The portals of rose beds made in spring covers;
Desires upon desires race, its sweetness.

On my rosy dimples, red cheeks - a hint of red iris;
A desire as the sun parts - the clouds give birth;
An affair with roses folding as I touch the earth;
Taunting the dream magic for eyes;
A majesty of touch with fingers softness to the mind;
Should it shift to a new frontier in scandal;
How light caresses innocence buds of rose candles.

Burn red! burn red rose, roses - I plead;
Keep my eyes on painted heart's blood bleed;
Roses fills a heart as beauty to the brain;
Comparing and uncomparing beauty contained;
Whereabouts time colors a Rome's fair;
Not of broken love as of one who cares;
Sorrow leaves after the conquest of rose petals.

Full rose day producing a charm instead;
Scarlet evolves to smooth mile white - no jealousy - no dread;
To run into the welcoming peppermint sand elation;
Deep down to coil with thorns of one's pride;
Still to remember a private flowers bold of blushing tides;
Full of blossom and gray ruby corals;
Withing my breast, a hundred red colors.

The scent of a rose that drops in the grass;
Folds of pretty girls whose softness is worth looking at;
Hours in thick accented air;
Voices that runs to the scent lingering there;
Has made red impressions with feelings reflecting comfortably;
Opens and burns quickly into discovery;
An envelope with a secret love letter.

To never tire and ecstasy meek lipstick wetter;
The scent should climb higher into the clouds;
In an abundant of rose smells - roses abound;
She should dare as freely and whisper;
Mystical things and dieties of jasper;
Enflame is the flagrant flower of the soul;
Uncoiling its face in need of a beautiful rose.

Maybe bigger than a mountain;
As enchanting as angels that from your hand;
Walking above us - among us - about us;
There comes the sound that leaps until;
Come beauty, come full, beauty what may;
Into light and into the sky of day;
No lack of the sun, it paints a beautiful image of a rose.

In magnificant admiration, my love before and after time unfolds;
A strength seemingly strong a superior prose;
Of long and endless affection juxtapose;
Courting its worth first with one bird then a cool flower;
Perhaps a howl to a fulfilling moon shower;
Soft place in fusion, tingling profusion;
Sweet of one's soul - eye's dew;
Born to the sentiments of rose perfume.

All the best thoughts of love grows;
Sweet modesty kiss a lovely rose;
From these lips of mine love with no fault;
One's heart can never question or throw it out;
A heart without air, a rose, born to spring;
Love unfolds and it is of real things;
Spring fever has become a butterfly.

The image in memory a life;
Whose wings fly and branch long and wide;
A rose with music with stems and exquisite scent;
Has made me sore - farwell to care and strength;
Hold me captive in my mind a confidence;
I didn't not think of where it went;
To nature and its grace blossoms and ornaments.

I catch its falling heart - year after year;
Its breath, a breeze in water and tears;
So fills my soul with words put in a cup;
Today its juice a volcano to erupt;
The moment parks into luminous site;
Like human clay, when molded tight;
A sculpture of landscapes into the grooves in my mind- a slow glide.

Suddenly, my behavior annoyed;
Without laughter my eyes are void;
The prettiest thing comes fear more wanting without voice;
No human shade dark yet moist;
Pirate steals dawn stings the eyes;
Shaking thick with confusion and lies;
Voices fill with alarms and fog.

As a moon fades my anger in an aurora;
A light beckons God;
A fascination gauzes me and suddenly unleashed;
A heart into hours torn pages released;
Sends hours of elegance with case erupted;
Symphonic trumpets and flutes play unscripted;
Rose fastening to the cooling of my body encrypted.

Light has given me answers;
To never turn the other way;
Be in time bright eyes that fears nothing wanting;
Place my hands on open doors haunting;
Gates shall open to pass -to sea and fire weather;
And I in motion not falling to pieces and become weakened.
Go deeper into water - set my heart upon the good of man's web.

Here am I with reason instead;
Riding the wind the wheels - of time well bred;
Heralding questions in my head;
Like light, like chorus whistling;
So swept in lover�s cold glistening;
Senses spoken tears bathing in rain;
Whistle endless hour in and endless gain;
Whereupon roses, God has given me -is born again.

Sipsey by rucieree

rucieree — Tue Jul 27, 2010 1:03 pm

Author: rucieree

Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 1:03 pm

Thanks, Amanda and Zoe!

Cherryl

flicku

Zoe — Tue Jul 27, 2010 10:53 am

Author: Zoe

Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 10:53 am

haha

good stuff

and I'll keep it in mind, I always forget to flick!

the best part is the title, it sort of feels expletive, if I can figure
a way to create an expletive in-fixation, I may well drop f*** lol

Z.

Life on the Run

mananaan — Tue Jul 27, 2010 12:06 am

Author: mananaan

Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 12:06 am

Good point about the title, although 'on the run' was the term used by the people themselves when their cover got blown. This seems to have happened quite frequently in the early years owing to a number of factors: putting up several people together in the same house or flat, broad Irish accents, erratic hours, nosy neighbours, loose talk in the pubs back home picked up and passed on to the security services; but less so in the late 80s and early 90s which is the period Danny was talking about. Danny C. is real enough although his name is not Danny and I didn't meet him in Ennis. There's a few more like him still knocking around, fitfully employed, not very good at relationships, getting on in years. There's no PTSD programme for ex-Volunteers ...

Nominations for August

AmandaT — Mon Jul 26, 2010 4:55 pm

Author: AmandaT

Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 4:55 pm

Hi peeps

Nominations for August IBPC are required by Saturday (31st). We've been quite successful in recent months and I'm sure there have been some contenders in the last few weeks.

Hmm, I'm not a natural at this cheerleading - help me out folks with some noms and seconds.

Amanda