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  #41  
Old 02-02-2018, 02:06 PM
Erik Olson Erik Olson is offline
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Blackout

version i.

What trips my trips have laid, and where, and why,
I have forgotten—last night I drank kooks
Under the table who return like spooks
To haunt my morning: many a bruised barfly
Will sue for damages or testify;
But in my gut there stirs the worst rebukes,
For unremembered dudes who put up dukes
Now take the stand and give the evil eye.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more friendless than before:
I lost some friends in no time when I won
The drinking game; that summer booze in me
Drove me half mad, that in me drives no more.

version ii.

What lip my lip has hissed, and where, and why,
I know not, nor with whom I did carouse
And fight till morning; filling this courthouse,
These gauzy ghosts in bandages claim I
Blacked out their light last night as well as eye;
A fire stirs my gut, which doubt might douse—
Each unremembered claimant seems a louse,
His case a railroad and his cast a lie.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more friendless than before:
I lost some friends in no time when I won
The drinking game; that summer booze in me
Drove me half mad, that in me drives no more.
f

Last edited by Erik Olson; 02-04-2018 at 09:30 PM.
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  #42  
Old 05-27-2018, 06:02 PM
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RCL RCL is offline
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# 479.1

After Emily Dickinson, “Because I could not stop for Death – “

Because I would not stop for Death –
One day she kidnapped me –
A Ferrari held the two of us
And lyric poet E.

We straightened curves – no time to waste
But I took time to pray
My modest books – my little frigates –
Would sail for me someday.

We zoomed past parks where Poets strove
Like boxers – in a Ring –
We blasted by Hope’s Feathers School,
Passed seasons up to Spring.

Or maybe – seasons passed by us –
The bone-dry heat was cruel –
E’s slants suggested that I strip –
But I maintained my cool.

We passed a House – its grassy roof
Close to the a Burying Ground –
Its ornate door with pulsing words
Like embers said – To Ground –

Since through that door, we’ve traveled far –
E hints at a Surprise –
So I surmise the red Ferrari
Speeds us to Paradise


https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/...stop-death-479
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Last edited by RCL; 05-27-2018 at 06:09 PM.
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  #43  
Old 05-29-2018, 06:51 PM
Dargan Ware Dargan Ware is offline
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Location: Birmingham, Alabama
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William Carlos Williams wanted to tell us about plums, but here is

What William's Wife Wants to Say

Forgive me
my dear

there will be
no Christmas pudding

because
you have eaten the plums

but they are tastier
from the icebox
anyway.
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  #44  
Old 05-29-2018, 10:26 PM
Graham King Graham King is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Patrick Murtha View Post
To eat or not to eat? Is that your question?
..
And let, in this, my plate my palate please.
WOW, that is astonishingly brilliant!
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  #45  
Old 05-30-2018, 06:52 AM
David Anthony David Anthony is offline
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On first looking into Chapman’s Homer

I’d never read Chapman before
and felt like that sky-watcher (Moore);
or those blokes on a peak
who weren’t able to speak,
being gobsmacked by all that they saw.

Adlestrop

I remember Adlestrop,
a place where trains no longer stop.
There is a pub there, and a shop.
Yes, I remember Adlestrop.
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  #46  
Old 07-14-2018, 07:23 PM
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RCL RCL is offline
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Default Hurry up, please, it's rhyme.

A Crime Rhyme

This morning, starving for good news,
instead of gaseous POTUS gab,
and seeking solace, I took a Blues Cab
to church and hoped to meet a new muse.
But there, before the Verse Church pews,
an Inquisition charged my last stab
at rhyming poems. The Chief Priest’s blab
said Heresy! and even Bad news!

They called my sonic-twins a sin,
not consonant with history,
divergent from rhyme’s mythic story:
Spike chimes Pike, not Ellen rimes Erin.
My new muse thinks it sexist folly
that purists think mixed pairs unholy.
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