[Lightning Bug]

Whaddaya figure Eratosphere is? Is it The Bigs - The Show? Is it triple A? College? Semi-pro? Fantasy League?

[Mark Allinson]

Well, it all depends on what angle you're coming from, Bug.

I would say that in the world of online poetry boards for metrics, Erato is definitely the BIG CHEESE.

But measured on the stage of contemporary poetry in English, I fear it is as big as a pygmy-gnat's earlobe.

[James Henry]

Mutant.

[Julie Steiner]

Well, most of us would be considered minor poets. So I guess we're in the minors. Or perhaps corrupting them.

Julie Stoner

[Duncan Gillies MacLaurin]

Well, I'd say Eratosphere is in a league of its own, or perhaps half a league:

The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

1.

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

2.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

3.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

4.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

5.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

6.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.


[This message has been edited by Duncan Gillies MacLaurin (edited November 30, 2006).]

[peter richards]

Here's a link to the old man reading it.

Consider the age of WS or that Rimbaud boy or Dylan Thomas etc etc, when they were in the full flush of their poetry. They wouldn't last long here.

I'm not sure that actually matters - you choose what you drink and where and with whom - but lest there should be further waves of self-importance...

[Michael P. McManus]

A dust mote swirling in the cosmic wind.