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  #21  
Unread 06-13-2021, 04:38 PM
F.F. Teague's Avatar
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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Unfortunately I lost the strawberries when I edited the previous post. Here they are again...

🍓🍓🍓
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  #22  
Unread 06-14-2021, 05:05 AM
Nigel Mace Nigel Mace is offline
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My version - "To His Coy Masters" - focussed on George W. Bush and the Iraq War, can be found under that title (or via Andrew Marvel in the category of "Poets Displeased") on my website www.warpoetryimprint.co.uk
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  #23  
Unread 06-14-2021, 01:41 PM
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F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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Is this it, Nigel? I don't know whether my browser's at fault, but I can't see a poem there, just grey space. Perhaps I'll try again tomorrow :-)

I'm returning to the Sculpture Trail to appreciate this piece. Sorry the poem is short and not very good. I had a hectic day at work, unfortunately.


The Heart of the Stone

I am exposed,
save for the remnants
of my own flesh
beside me,
which shelters only slightly
in this upper world.

He cut an eye
and I observe sideways,
learning seasons, animals,
and trying to belong.

The heat is good,
the cold excruciating;
and the movement of feet
over my smoothness
is ecstasy,
likewise the caresses
around my eye.

- - -
Tomorrow: more art (if time permits).
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  #24  
Unread 06-14-2021, 04:29 PM
Nigel Mace Nigel Mace is offline
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Look again, Fliss.
In the 'grey space' at the top you will see the title "To His Coy Masters" - click on it, the letters turn light purple and the poem opens up immediately.

Alternatively, click on the heading 'All Titles' and the alphabetical list of the anthology will open - scroll down to 'To His Coy Masters'..... OR just have a browse through the anthology which, an opening poem on Bush apart, is arranged, more or less, chronologically from William Collingbourne onwards.


'To His Coy Masters' will be found immediately after a trio of 'displeased Miltons' ending with a version of 'On His Blindness' and just before Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset's contribution which I called 'The Middle Ground'.
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  #25  
Unread 06-15-2021, 03:03 PM
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F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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🍓🍓🍓

Hello again, Nigel,

I must've missed the link yesterday. I like the light purple letters; they're pretty. And the poem is excellent; what happened with the anthology? I'm taken with the idea of writing against war.


Now, however, for something very peaceful. Before she died from lung cancer in 1985, my gran on Dad's side painted two pictures one for my older brother and one for me. She had intended to paint one for little bro too, but she didn't live long enough, sadly.

This is my poem describing the first picture. I wrote it in 2013.


Her Picture of Grandad, for Graham

Positioned by his garden gate,
and row of fence-posts, white, tall, straight,
he breaks, perhaps, from planting toil,
his fork wedged deep in Kentish soil.

Beside him, long-furred canine Zak,
in shining swathes of jettest black,
both gazing out, beyond their lands,
to where her tripod easel stands.

Behind, stout walnut trees in ranks,
upon gold-petalled primrose banks,
a hedgehog naps in sunny patch,
her sharp coat tousled into thatch.

Each side, tall frames of runner beans
watch over cabbages, slick greens,
placed deftly in his perfect row,
all open leaf, pale hearts aglow.

Above, his grand parade of beech
swings smooth limbs high as brush may reach,
no branch bereft of crusted flags,
with subtle swirl from cotton rags.

And in the farthest corners, birds,
bullfinches, peering at her words:
'Grandad in Garden, 83',
and her initials, 'D.S.T.'

- - -
Tomorrow: colours.
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  #26  
Unread 06-15-2021, 04:50 PM
Nigel Mace Nigel Mace is offline
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Thank you, Fliss. Alas I failed to find a publisher, though it very nearly found favour with Penguin; they feared that an anthology on a single theme "even that which is dominating us today" would have "a tough time in the market place" - and hoped I would find somebody "braver" than themselves. I didn't - hence the website.
My 'model' had been Paul Dehn's book "Quake, Quake, Quake - A Leaden Treasury of English Verse", a parody anthology, which had skewered the ghastliness of nuclear weapons, way back in the old, cold war.
It remains a treasure for which it is worthwhile looking out.
I enjoyed your family portrait. Ekphrastic poetry is, I believe, much underrated and I really enjoy attempting it.
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  #27  
Unread 06-16-2021, 04:13 AM
mignon ledgard mignon ledgard is offline
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Default Parallels

revision:
Parallels

flee to the woods
and bark the trees
with the tongue—what
better dagger
than one which wags
—a fountain pen
poking points with
perseverance—
woodpecker drilling
to find hollows
—nothing—to make
something and paint
oneself silly
little animal
lost in the forest

~ml
June 22, 2021


Parallels

I flee to the woods
and bark the trees
with my tongue

what better dagger
than one which wags

or a fountain pen
poking points
with perseverance

woodpecker drilling
to find hollows
—nothing

to make something
and paint myself silly

little animal
lost in the forest

~ml
May 19, 2009

Last edited by mignon ledgard; 06-23-2021 at 04:16 AM. Reason: revision of post 27
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  #28  
Unread 06-16-2021, 03:04 PM
F.F. Teague's Avatar
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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🍓🍓🍓

Hello poetry people,

You're welcome, Nigel. Yes, the mainstream publishing houses like to play safe on the whole. Did you consider self-publishing? There are a few options in that field. I once copyedited a book of WW1 poems, one of my favourite publishing jobs to date, quite early on in my career.

Thanks for enjoying the portrait and I'll take a look at the parody anthology soon.

- - -
mignon, thanks very much for posting this. It's always good to escape to the woods. I like everything about the poem, but my highlights are the woodpecker and the little animal, as you might expect.

Well, what am I doing? I'm still working towards a deadline today. So here's an old ode, something commissioned in 2015. There's quite a lot of colour in it, I suppose. Esmeralda was once thought to be female, but things change. This Bird Island is in the Seychelles archipelago.


Ode on Bird Island

A pocketful of paradise, bird isle,
00immersed in cyan seas, beset with shoals
of spot trevally crossing coral pile,
00electric-blue carangue on food patrols.
Ashore, brown bar-tailed godwits chirp a'ights,
00while speckled plovers skate the slick white sands
0000and turnstones probe for periwinkle treats;
then ak, ker-ak! a sooty flock alights
00on coco-palms within the forest lands
0000of vines and orchids, pink rain lily streets.

Paean to conservation, ground doves sing
00as white-tailed tropicbirds may safely nest
among the roots of she-oak trees or wing
00the Seychelles skies in smart tailcoat and vest.
How Esmeralda smiles and nods his head
00in rapt approval as his friends are tracked
0000and granted haven beach to lay their eggs;
for all long winter, in a tunnelled bed
00a tiny turtle leaps from shell fresh cracked
0000and scrambles seaward, flapping arms and legs.

🐢🐢🐢

Tomorrow: tbc. (Am shaking at the moment; need Fortisip.)
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  #29  
Unread 06-16-2021, 08:37 PM
mignon ledgard mignon ledgard is offline
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Default Hello to Fliss

Dear Fliss,

I've been admiring your poems, but haven't had the energy to comment, nor to post my heart on a porcelain plate, but things change and I might.

Thanks for commenting on Permanet Visitor. Very shortly after I wrote it, the story of its total opposite was too fabulous to boil down to a poem. By this, I mean that the young man in the poem, and his partner, are among my most favorite and loved, now family members. My only curiosity about this piece is the form it took--I don't know what to think of it.

Esmeralda is so close to Esperanza. One is hope, the other one is the color of hope.. Have you heard a singer, Garou?

More later.
Thank you for adding cheer to the boards,
~mignon
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  #30  
Unread 06-17-2021, 02:42 PM
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F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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❤️❤️❤️

Dear mignon,

Thanks very much for admiring the poems; I'm sorry you're lacking in energy. Yes, things change; and I think you know that if you do post your heart you're in a safe space here (i.e., with me).

You're welcome for my comment on your poem. How interesting that things changed so soon after you wrote it. Would you consider writing a second part? I like the form you chose.

Yes, Esmeralda, Esperanza; well, now I feel like writing a song. I haven't heard Garou, so I'll google later. It's my pleasure to add cheer :-)

This evening, I'm posting the first villanelle I attempted, in the voice of Shropshire sheep. From 2013, this was one in a collection of poems I composed after Grandad Teague died. I went on a sort of tour in my mind of places where we'd been together; and somehow, it comforted me.


Song of Sheep

We tread our small yet steadfast ways,
on paths to guide all travelling souls,
through freshening rains and golden rays.

While hilltops bathe in sundew haze,
or round the valleys thunder tolls,
we tread our small yet steadfast ways.

Our bracken moors sound joyful neighs,
of trotting ponies, dancing foals,
through freshening rains and golden rays.

Where picnic parties meet our gaze,
and offer crumbs from fresh bread rolls,
we tread our small yet steadfast ways.

In oaken shade we slow to graze,
as ramblers pass in happy strolls,
through freshening rains and golden rays.

Across this shire our thanks we raise,
with flags festooning fields and knolls;
we tread our small yet steadfast ways,
through freshening rains and golden rays.

🐑🐑🐑

Tomorrow: something inspired by John Isbell's latest poem.
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