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  1. What's new in this club
  2. Hello, All! I'm working on a fairy tale poem about badgers taking over a Japanese temple. It's called Shojoji, and here is an excerpt ...So the Tanuki leader sent the word; Far and wide there would be a conference On how Tanuki souls would be undeterred, Thinking of ways to shift the human nuisance. The leader’s tummy presided nobly. Round in finish, it made a great loud thump. When he pounded it so clear and boldly, Each assembled wished his tummy that Ka-Plump. “Now, what are we going to do?!” he asked, Every twinkling badger eye upon him. “We can grunt under the floorboard!” he tasked, “Then they’ll think we’re all ghosts. That should scare ‘em!” The meeting continued in the same way, Each proposing a bothersome idea To drive the unsuspecting men away. At last, the leader chose a panacea: “Ponta and Ponko, we’ll go with your plan. Hurry up and change into your new forms.” And with that, around and around they span Into whirls of badger features like storms. As talented Tanuki are known to do, These two could twirl off their regular state And assume forms that were completely new, Ones which with their real ones did not relate. Ponta, he whirled up to be a Cyclop; Ponka, she grew tall to look a Lady. The leader said, “Now be off, and eavesdrop,” His whiskers twitched at their plan so shady. From Shojoji came the Groan-Moan, Moan-Groan Led by the diligent and loud abbot. Ponta and Ponko peeked in all alone To see the boy and his master at it. “You go first,” Ponko said. “Tap his shoulder, Then when he turns around, give him a cough.” The two cleverlings never felt bolder, As Ponta blinking one big eye, trotted off. He sneaked up behind the yet-babbling guest. Tap, tap. “Rumble-Grumble” the priest still said, Turning his head to see what was the pest; “…rum…grum…?” His eyes grew huge as Ponta fled. The white-haired man clacked his beads together; Sitting there, his hand rubbed his eyes over, But lips still put word and word together, Pondering the apparition over. When he finished his prayers, he tapped the bell, And waiting, Ponko knew it her signal. With tea on tray she glided like a gazelle, Squeaking “Tea, master?” as polite as a gull. “Why yes, my dear,” said the man gratefully, Glad to wet his thirst on the jade liquid. Ponko sat down and poured the tea humbly, Her three-foot long neck wiggling like a squid. “Ahhhhh!” the two men screeched, stumbling for the door, Then across garden and plain beyond, One back-glance not followed by anymore For a place which they were not over-fond. The Tanuki in the treeline chuckled, Leaping down with glowing exuberance, Then laughed so hard, their bellies buckled. When paws found tummies, they started to dance... _
  3. Beautiful, as you consider the unequal weight of each moment, of each quantum of time.
  4. Thank you for this lovely present.
  5. Okay, I'm putting this one to bed. I worked some on the sestetto but don't feel like I should monkey around with it anymore. Thanks for your help -------- from a feverish brain Was time always seen as an absolute With one moment equaling all the rest; The current no better than the best And patience needed firm and resolute..? Yet, thanks to Einstein, it’s in disrepute That every second from the others wrest The same potential from the human breast As the cosmos-heartbeats might substitute. For now we know these points are relative And by their very nature unequal, That joy is more fleeting; pain longer-lived; 'Cuz where the hurts gather, they there instill Hopelessness as the accumulative Weight out pacing optimism’s goodwill. _
  6. Thank you AC Benus n northie...It's so good to be back 😊😊😊
  7. @Aviana Welcome back! And thanks for the gift.
  8. Wonderful to see you back! Great poem; very evocative and heartfelt
  9. Hello everyone...Avians here😊😊😊...How r u all?? Here is a small return gift😉 "Unheard and unsaid Words flew in a breath; Rain washed the wounds, unseen; Though the pain still throbs within; In the quivering lips Some silent sorrow smiles; Blindly the world looks at the Choked joy!"
  10. I like this. It takes on relativity in a way I enjoy thinking about. Definitely worth continuing to work with, in my tiny opinion.
  11. day before yesterday I was ill and trying to take a nap, instead I wrote this poem. I'm not sure it relays its message, so please let me know what (if anything) you get out of it. My options are to scrap it; re-try the concept in a totally new poem; or work to fix this one. Opinions...? ----------------- from a feverish brain Was time always seen as an absolute With one moment equaling all the rest; The current no better than the best And patience needed firm and resolute. But thanks to Einstein it’s in disrepute That every second from the others wrest The same potential from the human breast As the cosmos heartbeat finds substitute. But now we know these points are relative And by their very nature unequal, That joy is more fleeting; pain longer-lived; The slower those hurts, the more they instill Hopelessness as the commemorative That outweighs optimism’s overkill. _
  12. Thank you, Parker. That particular poem about the fireflies coming to the end of the season affected me pretty strongly when I posted it. It's great you single it out
  13. This is high praise indeed! Thank you for reading and encouraging me.
  14. Thank you for reading, Michael. The section you quoted is beautiful, if I may say so myself edit: Your praise was SO nice, lol, I answered it twice. And yes, I'm a poet and know it
  15. Nice to see you posting again
  16. It's been a while since I've been here. Life's been busy but it's nice to see so many people still writing here and poetry being shared. I wrote a little something about how I've been feeling lately. Slightly solemn but hope you enjoy. As always I love hearing feedback. https://www.gayauthors.org/story/totallyy/rhymes/25
  17. I really engaged with this one; its images and ideas spoke powerfully, and in a convincing voice. That spring of ‘90 was a great one for all of us, as we are discovering.
  18. @AC Benus, the highlights from you Spring of 90 collection were inspiring. Made me remember what I enjoy about poetry and the rush I get from seeing what others (and you ) create. Thank you for the post!
  19. Thank you, Michael. That's very touching to hear
  20. Wonderful AC .. the last is magnetic I think, at least for me. .. I love quoted section...
  21. I posted The Spring of '90 as a whole collection, so I thought I'd just place a few of the highlights here. Hope you enjoy --- The best ideas are the ones which never get written down. The ones for which words are least suited. --- The sweetest sounds a person can know are the words spoken to the self saying let it be so. --- The spring of ’90 was very sweet the sweetest in a hundred years perhaps the kindest I shall know. Then the summer came to say that the world was just the same or at least, still a work in progress But spring of ’90 was very sweet the sweetest in a hundred years perhaps the kindest I shall know. --- I’ll keep you there in a place I’ll make of kind words and gentle thoughts high above the everyday where every longing can be heard. There high above in our home of dreams we can live. --- Prelude: Stars like jewels in the grass a chorus of living light attest to the end of summer Their sweet song of light fills my eyes a vision of the sky above where all cannot equal the grandeur in the green Stars that thought the seasons would last have lost their want of flight and glow to the end of their age No hope was needed no will to survive they simply do what they’ve always done by simply being alive They didn’t have to decide whether living was good enough no thought was given to not being they simply were what they are In the grass lives a melody one that will not end one that cannot be stopped Why worry if it’s good enough don’t be trapped in the everyday these are the things they tell the only sin is to waste a day Jewels in the grass more precious than they know sing to me in their glow of things not lost Poem: Into the night, I set sail my hopes and dreams for its rendezvous with chance up through the gentle breeze it goes without me, to find a receptive home to bring me some peace of mind. Above and below me there is light some of Earth, some of heaven – but miracles all – ghosts and phantoms take flight in the perfect air of this perfect night it’s just the sky and ground, but miracles all. The past has been a great one the day before, a warm one, but none of it matters; here in the shattered globe of day only the unknown has power. In the moonless September sky a symphony of nocturnal light dreams from one point of the compass to the other; a billion voices sing of the universe and I am one with it. All the sadness of the past all the desire for the worthless cannot destroy the glory in my eyes; I stand here, in nowhere, and see all there is to know. What profane logic says that the self is all that matters; the past, in its whole, points only to now’ this night when all could conceive that this is all there is. In the quaking quiet a riot of peace prevails; light, from one corner to the other; light, older than what can be, and now, and here, I am one with it. And so we sit here the mutant great apes that we are and look out from our cage to see the light we’ll never know; of a million places we’ll never go. In the moonless September sky a symphony of nocturnal light dreams from one point of the compass to the other; a billion voices sing of the universe and I am one with it. Postlude: In the bright light of morning the words I thought seem untrue a hoax that doesn’t matter We forget what once was meant and find the world the same; the think that failed to change was us In the bright light of day it’s back to the routine but oh, the worlds I’ve seen --- Greatness of form Comes from the power of meaning. Mystery is not in the seeing, Almost never in the performed. Mystery is in the feeling. Mystery is in the storm; In its fleeting, Find its meaning. Reason is something power cannot know No cause can affect the purpose of time So through the sea of enigmas we go Looking for something of the ultimate find The power of expression is the only power we make; What mystery could be greater than this urge to create. _
  22. Hello! Been typing and sorting my old stuff, again *still*, and ran across this poem. Do you think the images are clear enough? I mean, what sense do you get when you read it? Two Parts Two parts seem to be at fight within me: Hope and no hope; love and spiting apathy. Both beg from corners in a silent plea In the eyes of cups looking for dignity.
  23. Just ran into this poem by a GA author. I think it's well worth checking out https://www.gayauthors.org/story/corvus/poems/5
  24. Definitely worth reading....
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