' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[AC Benus]

2 minutes ago, mollyhousemouse said:

i love that you posted this AC!

 

on the hutch in my living room lives an etched piece of sandstone, it reads:

 

Above and below me hovers the beautiful

I am surrounded by it, I am immersed in it.

In my youth I am aware of it, and in my old age

I shall walk quietly the beautiful trail.

 

 

it is one of my most treasured pieces

That's awesome, Molly  

[mollyhousemouse]

Just now, AC Benus said:

That's awesome, Molly  

thanks, AC

it's been with us since 1998

2 states, 6 houses

[MrM]

1 hour ago, AC Benus said:

@MrM

 

Here are more traditional Native American lyrics. This is a Navaho song.

 

The Way of Beauty

 

In the house of long life,

There I wander -  

 

In the house of happiness,

There I wander - 

 

Beauty is before me and behind me,

Beauty is above me and below me - 

 

Beauty is all around me,

With it I wander, In old age traveling - 

 

With it I wander,

On the beautiful trail am I - 

 

With it I wander. 

 

 

(I don't know whose translation this is, but see here http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textbook.cfm?smtID=3&psid=4309) 

 

How beautiful and evocative! The flow of water is the flow of years. The journey of lives is the same.

Edited March 25, 2018 by MrM

[Parker Owens]

@AC Benus: that’s a wonderful poem. Thank you for posting it! 

[AC Benus]

Some more of my old babblings...(dabblings...?)

 

https://www.gayauthors.org/story/ac-benus/amaninaroomandotherpoems/24

 

[MichaelS36]

https://www.gayauthors.org/story/macgreg/exquisite-corpse-and-other-collaborations/5#comment-320126

 

Little bit of magic here ....

[Emi GS]

My sixth day of NaPoWriMo goes like this... 

 

A stereo is playing on to my right
A song, full of energy, with high bass
A blackboard was set, middle of the wall
Different names of fruits written on it
And a drawn picture of "The Miner Ant" 
The light breeze from the windows on my left
Brought a crisp aroma from near by lake
Children dancing in the middle of room
Blabbering, loud, more than their excitement
Tap of the stick on the wooden table
Getting diverse with the teacher's patience
Tired, I stand aside with smile on my lips

Edited April 7, 2018 by Emi GS

[mollyhousemouse]

2 minutes ago, Emi GS said:

My sixth day of NaPoWriMo goes like this... 

 

A stereo is playing on to my right
A song, full of energy, with high bass
A blackboard was set, middle of the wall
Different names of fruits written on it
And a drawn picture of "The Miner Ant" 
The light breeze from the windows on my left
Brought a crisp aroma from near by lake
Children dancing in the middle of room
Blabbering, loud, more than their excitement
Tap of the stick on the wooden table
Getting diverse with the teacher's patience
Tired, I stand aside with smile on my lips

i like it Emi

thanks for sharing it!

 

[AC Benus]

Lyssa just alerted me to another form of set verse. It's a German one called Elfchen (or "little eleven"). See here for an explanation. 

 

Here's an example 

 

[Mikiesboy]

41 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

Lyssa just alerted me to another form of set verse. It's a German one called Elfchen (or "little eleven"). See here for an explanation. 

 

that is interesting ..   i'll have to give it a try

[Parker Owens]

 

3 hours ago, AC Benus said:

 

Lyssa just alerted me to another form of set verse. It's a German one called Elfchen (or "little eleven"). See here for an explanation. 

 

I like this. Another structure to try...

Thank you! 

[AC Benus]

Lyssa provides us with more details on the Elfchen. I offer it here, but please remember the things she diagrams are likely to come naturally when you stick to the form anyway. In other words: read, enjoy, but so not stress too much about making your Elfchens perfect. Let it flow first  

 

----------------------------

 

Hi, I have read the English side about the Elfchen and found it not so detailed about the structure, so I tried to write it down in English. Maybe you or someone like to know it a bit more detailed.

The Elfchen / little eleven — one possible common structure:

1st line = 1 word: the content to be dealt with / a natural event, a color, an object or a person. It is often a noun or can be an adjective.

2nd line = 2 words: They give a detail about the first word.

3rd line = 3 words: The three words are describing, if the first line was a noun often but not necessarily the third line is build around a fitting adjective.

4th line = 4 words: The four words show the writer's relation to the first word, often build around a verb relating to it.

5th line = 1 word: A Fazit or Summary  (have lots of fun :-) Lyssa


Example:

                                          Bruderherz,

 

                                       poet           king

 

                                    music     in      words,

 

                              his       gift          to           us.

 

                                                Joy!

 

 

 

[Mikiesboy]

She right about that!  Ill see what i come.up with! 

[Parker Owens]

Thank you for more details about this form. Time for another sketch...or three. 

[Emi GS]

On 08/04/2018 at 3:48 AM, AC Benus said:

Lyssa just alerted me to another form of set verse. It's a German one called Elfchen (or "little eleven"). See here for an explanation. 

 

Here's an example 

 

 

Always a great pleasure to learn about new forms of poetry. This is one interesting form. Like others, I'd like to try it too. Thanks to you both for sharing this knowledge with us. 

[AC Benus]

A bit of fun. The opening of Colin Clout. @northiereminds me a bit of your Joeffy the Cat  

 

What can it avail

To drive forth a snail,

Or to make a sail

Of an herring’s tail;

To rhyme or to rail,

To write or to indict,

Either for delight

Or else for despite;

Or books to compile

Of divers manner of style,

Vice to revile

And sin to exile;

To teach or to preach,

As reason will reach?

Say this, and say that,

His head is so fat,

He wotteth never what

Nor whereof he speaketh;

He crieth and he creaketh,

He prieth and he peeketh,

He chides and he chatters,

He prates and he patters,   

He clitters and he clatters,

He meddles and he smatters,

He gloses and he flatters;

Or if he speak plain,

Then he lacketh a brain.

John Skelton

 

 

[northie]

I love the onomatopoeia, and rushing sense of the lines. The final line is a killer.  

[AC Benus]

don't like

the Cinquain's flair

find it too cavalier 

and just when it's getting good, ends

abrupt. 

[AC Benus]

Plz read my little doodle poem above with tongue in cheek  

[AC Benus]

I've been typing up the last from my early poetry folder, and discovering quite a few I missed first round. Updated Twenty-Two Early Poems today and the new material can be found here.

 

Here is a sample:

 

 

I saw two Christs on the street today

one was hungry, the other didn't say

 

On the big street they stand

mother with child in hand

 

No father to see

but it's not a fashion a father to be

 

"Something for the baby," one Christ called out

the voice was pitiful, without a doubt

 

It was pity I lacked, so with eyes bowed

I walked along, amidst my fellow crowd

 

It's a terrible thing we do to ourselves

this impulse to put other people on shelves

 

I saw two Christs on the street today

one was hungry, the other didn't say.

 

But I walked by them and went on my way.

 

Soul of Mine[1]

 

 

 

 

 

---

[1] Soul of Mine: this was inspired by an incident on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. One of our instructors in the Fine Arts Department, Rodney Winfield, organized quarterly trips for students to spend a weekend in Chicago and see the latest show at the Art Institute. (We attended the one on John Singer Sargent.) I went out that Friday night to walk to the Rookery and Sears Tower. On the way, I overheard two sailors being propositioned for a $10 –round of oral sex by a thin woman; they declined. Soon after, I saw the pair mentioned in this poem. 

Incidentally, there is a slightly revised version of this poem dated "Oct. 22nd 1990 – 2 days after." I believe this is a reference to two days after having slept with my first man, Richard, an English professor at the University of Missouri Saint Louis (UMSL). I remember sending him a few of my poems, and this one specifically. About it, I told him the form and polish may be rough, but in my opinion I could come up with a more impactful concept. He did not reply.

Edited April 16, 2018 by AC Benus

[Mikiesboy]

4 hours ago, AC Benus said:

I've been typing up the last from my early poetry folder, and discovering quite a few I missed first round. Updated Twenty-Two Early Poems today and the new material can be found here.

I've read them... and truly enjoyed them AC. I think it's wonder full to see all of these in one place. xo

[AC Benus]

I'm preparing to update My Twentieth Year with an-all-in-one appendix. Here is one of the 'lost' poem from the collection. A warm thank you goes to @Parker Owensfor reading it over and saying it was not as bad as I imagined. I present:

 

 

Adventures of my Umbrella

 

 

When I was but a child,

I had an umbrella.

I was seven; it was new.

 

I remember it when

Seeing it the first time;

Downtown is where it was,

In some ritzy display.

 

In a place with glass doors,

The shop like the ‘brella,

Was black – how elegant.

 

My mom bought two that day:

One for her; one for me.

She had had some before;

For me it was my first.

 

What mysteries were in

That black new umbrella;

How I longed to use it.

 

Then finally one day,

Rain was in the forecast;

Out of the closet it

Came for its first big use.

 

It wasn’t easy though

To convince Mom the need

Of taking it to school.

 

But I argued, saying,

“Why did you buy it then,

If I can’t ever use?”

She swayed; it came with me.

 

It didn’t rain, but what

Did that matter right then,

For I’d still showed it off.

 

Boring school, like always,

Made me long for day’s end,

And “Who knows, there could still

Be a massive downpour!”

 

Marian looked after me

Afternoons until my mom

Could pick me up from work.

 

So, though a rainless day,

The school bell rang and I

Collected my things to

Trudge my way back to her. 

 

To get to Marian’s house,

I went the high-school way,

Though she told me not to.

 

I thought about how many

More chances I could get

To impress with my toy –

My new black umbrella.

 

When I walked by the grade school,

I saw the daughter of

My once-a-week tutor.

 

They lived in a big house

That wasn’t far from mine;

My tutor was so nice,

It never seemed like homework.

 

My tutor’s daughter asked

If I would like a ride home.

I said, “Sure, that would be nice.”

 

I did wonder though how

She knew to take me to

My babysitter’s house….

She started the right way.

 

She went down the right street,

But then suddenly turned

The exact opposite way.

 

I wanted to tell her

To go the other way –

But then, the whole idea

Seemed a very bad one.

 

And what of Marian?

Would she be worried when

I didn’t show up soon?

 

So, I was on my way home;

My mind raced as what to tell.

“Why are you home so early?”

My dad was sure to say.

 

These were the things I thought

As my tutor’s daughter

Sped in the wrong direction.

 

I considered this because

My Mom hadn’t given me

My very own front door key –

Wait… “I left my umbrella.”

 

This I thought as she drove

Off with my new equipment,

But, by then, it was too late.

 

Now what was I to do?

I feverishly delved,

Looking for an excuse

Where my umbrella was.

 

Not much came right away,

Then again when asked, I

Would come up with something.

 

“At school,” is what I said.

Mom replied, “Don’t forget

About it tomorrow.”

“I won’t!” was my swift answer.

 

My brand-new umbrella

Lay on the back-seat floor:

Left but not abandoned.

 

I went to my tutor

Every Tuesday evening,

After dinner, from home,

I walked myself over there.

 

They had seen my umbrella!

It lay nestled against

The others in their care.

 

I stroked it in the hall tree,

Knowing in an hour

I’d be able to put right

A mistake that’d ballooned.

 

When I left, I snagged it

To take it where it would

Be finally at home.

 

I was out the door,

And way down the sidewalk,

When I realized I

Had a major problem.

 

I told my mom I had

Left it back at my school;

What could I tell her now?

 

What bold explanation

From my seven-year-old

Brain would explain this one – 

What to do and not panic?

 

Starting to walk on home, 

Worry marched by my side; 

Suddenly I had a flash.

 

It wasn’t a good flash,

In retrospect I know,

But despair was to blame

When I think back to it.

 

In my home’s direction,

Near my tutor’s abode,

Was a buried culvert.       

 

I took my new shiny

Umbrella and stuck it

In the dry drainage pipe,

But felt ill doing it.

 

Yet, I did have a plan

To get it back next week,

Barring some rain, that is.

 

The week flew by slowly

Bringing Tuesday ‘round to me –

It hadn’t rained, so I

Hoped it was still in place. 

 

Tutoring went quickly.

When over, I leapt out

Her front door to get it.

 

The path was blocked instead,

Showing me my mom with

A stranger idly talking.

My mom! What was happ’ning?

 

She’d never walked me home

After my tutoring.

I couldn’t believe it.

 

After chatty intros,

To my horror, we all walked

The few blocks back to home.

 

I had no chance to get

My lonely umbrella;

It would have to wait longer.

 

The following week dragged

Slower than the previous;

It had been so long since

I’d seen my umbrella.

 

Back to look in the pipe,

My umbrella was gone –  

I’d never see it again…

 

Now you see my woe,

For when I was a child,

I had an umbrella.

I was seven; it was new.

 

 

Postlude:

 

Memory of love, or love of memory

I don’t know which is true of my umbrella

 

The case now, I cannot state very calmly

Did I love then, or only hence, that umbrella

 

I only know if I were to run away

To the blue hills, what would occupy me there

 

Where the hills and my umbrella are I can’t say

I only know they’re gone, yet still they are there

 

Where are the distant, rolling blue hills of my youth?

Where do I look? To Memphis, Lincoln, or Duluth?

 

 

_   

Edited April 22, 2018 by AC Benus

[Mikiesboy]

Tried one of these.. in my upcoming Third Week for NaPoWriMo

 

The modern pantoum is a poem of any length, composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The last line of a pantoum is often the same as the first.

[Mikiesboy]

Self-care (self-kair) n. an act
or series of acts undertaken
with the intent to ease one's
own mind and body into well-being.
See: reading poetry

-from the League of Canadian Poets

[mollyhousemouse]

hey y'all

tim did some writing and it's very good! y'all should check it out