Join the others,
Take a place,
Like them read,
So have started
Three point one
I hope you don't mind but we were sinking fast - so this is my message in a bottle! Please can Corner Three Folk swim with the big fish on the front page of Creative Corner? We had slipped to page 5 even though poems were being written regularly. Bogman may be on the case too. BUT WHERE IS MARCEL?
Confusion reigns over who should post where in the poetry section.What is a good poem,indeed what is a poem.Who has the right to rate its importance or merit.If something stirs me i follow.Words in an arrangement is what i see as poetry.There are no rules.Feelings expressed should be imparted with no anxiety.There is no right or wrong,nobody should be shunted to the sidelines.
freedom of expression is what i believe in
All the best
Good. That is sorted then.
Well done Lin!
I may be suspended soon!
No Ray, not by the neck or ankles or any other appendage!!
Message in a bottle Lin, We'll have to empty it fast
OK everyone go get yourselves a glass
We'll drink the lot, just sup and sup
And maybe whilst we're in our cups
A rhyme we'll write and when it's done
We'll post it off to Corner Three Point One
I am not a connoisseur
Or a type of bon viveur
My palette is very poor
Could somebody who knows more
Tell me what drink is this
It tastes a bit like ...
Oh dear AB no not that bottle
(Now what rhymes with this ah -) Aristotle
The one you hold is not a good Vin
And is in fact probably as old as him
The taste would be a little dusty
Rather earthy and quite musty
The drink that I had meant to finish
Should taste much better, far more sweet(ish)
It only has a content sunny
Nice hot water mixed with lots of honey
On a Saturday night, what do you do?
Are you out for a meal? At a party or two?
Are you strutting your stuff, down at the club?
Or watching a film, or with mates at the pub?
If you are like me, you’re stuck in the house?
No-one to talk to, as quiet as a mouse.
Everyone’s out and you’re left alone,
No-one’s around to answer their phone.
So what do you do, to pass all that time?
You know what I do, I think up a rhyme.
I wish I was dancing, but there’s not a chance,
Tonight is for Parkinson, not for romance!
A glass by my side, full of good wine,
And a big bar of chocolate, hands off, it is mine!
No really, I’d share it, if someone was near,
But I’m afraid it is eaten, just the wrapper left here
My back it is aching, my head it is full,
Not with brain power, but with cotton wool!
I’m wriggling and hurting and feeling so bad,
It’s the pills that I take, that drive me this mad?
Welcome home from the party or from that good meal,
Was the film worth the watching? Is it tired you feel?
Are you ready to sleep, just when I want to chat?
Back to silence and chocolate or talk to the cat.
But we don’t have a cat!!!
But at home I feel more confident and safe, so I'm not complaining! Much!!
Lin I wish I had known
That you sat alone
So was I 4 walls around
Husband away not a sound
Even the dog didn't want to know
I sat twiddling my thumbs
Wondering who I could ring
Sat night know one in
How boring have I become
Sitting all alone with
just the dog to hear me moan
Would anybody be interested in starting or taking up a story – with someone else adding on the next verse or paragraph? You can use poetry or prose. We have done it before a while ago but in content, we can’t break our forum terms and conditions.
In the deepest depths of the valley,
Near the shores of dangerous sea,
Just past the Fruitful Forest,
With the enormous Singing Tree,
Came such a loud commotion,
A hullabaloo, a shout,
A small crowd quickly gathered
To see what it was all about…
From the edge of the Far Horizon
Came an awesome sight to behold
A ghostly apparition
It's mysteries to unfold
The crowd looked on with alarm
Then heard The Phantom say
" My friends I mean you no harm
I've come to point the way"
He didn't have a dead albatross round his neck, did he?
They listened to his stories and tales of distant shores
And some decided that perhaps this place might give them more
Than they had now and might somehow bring happiness and pleasure
And so they followed blindly this Phantom from afar
Their footsteps matching his steps towards a distant star
Which promised them they thought, believed a life of ease and leisure
But doubt soon ran like fire through dry trees,
A tiny, pleading voice began to wail,
Plaintive sound echoed widely across space
The phantom’s plan was not the Holy Grail
The voice became insistent and too loud
At once all faces turned towards their home
To return is what their hearts desired
But for one year they were forced to roam.
Gone in search of the grail, a fleece or more
to voyage in their minds to foreign shores
The trail that would take them to voyges end
a sail, a carpet or the arm of a friend
Courage and willpower, a positive belief
to tilt at windmills and seek relief
gathering an army of wraiths and ghosts
setting sail for Hibernia in paper boats
They saw through the mists the Mountains of Mourne
And knew that to them they were being called
Of what lay before them they were unsure
Quite unaware of the mystical lure
With one last pull to make use of the tide
They felt full of vigor, promise and pride
This is a Land that is waiting for us
A refuge, asylum, a terminus
(sorry to interupt -but I have a strong sense of deja vu. have I been here before or am I just plain tired?)