I usually post in Poet's Corner 2 but the last poem on there by marcel, about his brother's wedding, was so good that I didn't want to spoil it or detract from the generosity of the wedding party. It was a great gesture and shouldn't be lost in all the other poetry.
So I have started another little poet's corner but don't leave me here on my own -please post your poems too.
This sonnet is actually aimed at a politician - one I am starting to dislike - the more I hear about him - the stronger my feelings of irritation and disgust.
The woman sits in lonely solitude,
Yet others run around and tear their hair.
This rumbling world will set their daily mood,
As doleful eyes observe her sitting there.
Sad thoughts will drift, see pictures in her prime,
When all the world was well within her reach.
The clock ticks on, the winding path of time,
Like pebbles shift wet sand along the beach.
The workers and the lame are poles apart,
No–one can say just what the other needs.
With common sense thrown wildly on the cart
No pretty rose can compensate for weeds.
A world for one? Perhaps, a place to share?
Who will be first to show they really care?
I’m no poet myself, but I do love your sonnet. I love the rhythm of it and it puts into words the way many of the people on this forum must feel. It certainly strikes a chord with me.
Also, I think I know the politician you’re referring to – and I don’t like him either.
I love sonnets because of their rhythm and I think I am getting closer to understanding what works and what doesn't work. The one I wrote here was a Shakespearian sonnet with 14 lines/10 syllables per line and a prescribed rhyming pattern.
I suppose the politician could be any one of them - not one appeals to me.
I hope you are feeling okay - I am going through a dodgy patch but hopefully, it will soon sort itself out.
Oh yes, it’s got the same rhythm as Portia’s verse in The Merchant of Venice:
The quality of mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven …
I’m sorry you’re going through a dodgy patch. Is it the meds settling in or are you just feeling a bit ‘down’?
You ask if I am I OK. Yes, I’m fine, thanks – in the general scheme of things. But it’s all relative, like it is for the woman in your poem. You get used to the gradual decline, until you recall how strong and active you were only a few short years ago.
Then you get idiot politicians who decide that a good way to save money would be to cut funding for scientific research.
Anyway, must lighten up; this is the wrong thread for moaning!
I have just cobbled this little ditty together.
If I could write a poem,
A poem to explain,
What Parkinson’s is like…
I don’t mean to complain,
But to demonstrate our battle,
The things we now find hard,
Like walking through a doorway,
Or writing someone’s card.
Tell all about the tremors,
Which wriggle their way out,
Or getting stuck in Tesco!
A nightmare! There’s no doubt.
But when somebody asks me
How I feel, am I okay?
I don’t know how to answer,
I don’t know what to say.
So I tell them I feel fine,
But inside I know I’m not,
Feeling bad in many places
I didn’t know I’d got!
Tomorrow will be different,
No two days are the same,
Worse or maybe better,
P.D. - too hard to explain.
Brilliant! Thank you Lin.
Sorry to have asked such a stupid question when you said you’d been feeling dodgy lately: I’ve just noticed your postings under another thread.
I’m not good at this forum malarkey – always making gaffes like mistaking women for men and mis-timing messages, etc.
I think I’ll have to go back to lurking and leave posting to the experts!
Anyway, I hope you manage to get your meds sorted and start to feel better very soon.
All the best
You sound like the sort of person I could get along with - especially when you say you like my poems. Most of the people I know are heartily sick of them. However, I don't suppose I will stop writing because I love playing with words.
I am having a dodgy time the moment but I will sort it out eventually. I feel a bit guilty because I only seem to come on here when I have a problem. I suppose that is because I know there will be somebody out there who has felt/or feel the same way. Talking and writing always help.
This seems to be turning into a 'Lin' thread (and if pokermid just happens to be reading, I know precisely what he will be saying about that!) so I will now go back to Poets Corner 2
Hope to see you there.
OOOOEEERR ! My new meds must be working.I am venturing out of my repetitive comfort zone into the unchartered territory of Corner 3.... Next stop - well the world is my lobster! POETRY- Food for life
Good fiends whom I have not met,
yet intimately know
In response my tuppence worth
Surely there does not exist an incorrect place to post
Anywhere on this earth
For no matter what the content or rhyming style
Complex rhyme or monologue
Nor indeed what subject matter it is
Pro cat or anti mog
The point is that words should not be coveted but shared
Accessible to each and everyone
And those who read them can decide
If they wish to gorge on all or just some
For each ones appetite is more likely to surfeit
If the world is covered in our prose
I conclude thus there can never be too much of it
And as to where to post- just follow your nose !
Good to hear from you.
I'm not writing so much these days - think I have written about everything under the sun!!
Can you inspire me by giving me a title or subject?
Does Pokermid exist?
Indeed, do you not know?
The legend of the pokermid,
How he used to come and go?
More bans than the worst driver,
He was always in disgrace,
But such a clever demon,
Now he’s sunk without much trace.
You’ll find him at the junction,
Or so I’ve heard it said,
I’m sure he’ll be around somewhere,
I’m sure this will be read.
So good morning Pete, the pokermid,
And good morning sunshine ray,
I hope you are both feeling well
and having a good day.
Can I suggest a title now, Lin?
(I think some of us are in need of a lift right now.)
I hope this scans ok - I've written it in a few minutes. I am feeling okay at the moment so will have to do all the jobs now that I won't be able to do later.
Hope springs eternal,
I think that’s how it goes.
I don’t know what it means,
But maybe all hope flows…
Through our veins and arteries,
Right up to our brain,
One day we feel despondent,
Then the sun shines through the rain.
We’re all in this together,
We help others to pull through,
When I am unhappy,
Then I can talk to you.
You can take your problems
To anyone on here
They’ll help you if they can
To allay your fear.
Hope is in the doctors,
The scientists, the nurse
Hope is in your family
Your friends who hear you curse…
About your situation,
How bad it’s going to be,
But being optimistic…
That’s what holds the key.
Hope that looking forward
Will bring more good than bad,
Make you feel encouraged,
Stop you feeling sad.
Hope that in the morning
You feel better than last night,
Hope that very soon
We all will see the light.
A cure from our discomfort,
A cure to make us whole,
Hope for that and say your prayers
From the bottom of your soul.
Thank you so much for that; it’s exactly what I needed. Maybe it will help other people, too.
I’m going to print it out and use it as psychotherapy! (I’ll file it alongside my physiotherapy stuff.)
Thanks once again Lin. You poets are so clever!
Having done all the jobs I wanted to do, I came back to look at the poem. Slight hitch in the veins and arteries - am I right in thinking arteries carry blood to the heart and veins carry it away. Science was never my strong point.
So, poetic licence (license?) there please.
Yes, you're right on both counts.
When deciding whether to use the 'c' or the 's' in licence/license, practice/practise etc, I always use advice/advise as a yardstick since the noun and the verb have different sounds.
Well, it works for me ...
My poem for National Poetry Day - theme - home
‘Get this rubbish sorted, I want a tidy home,
Not full of bits and pieces, dropped wherever you may roam.’
‘But Mum look in that corner, who does the sewing here?
That is all your property, essential sewing gear!
Now, turn to face the other way, what is that sticking out?
A partly knitted jumper? That’s yours without a doubt.
Over there you’ll find the papers, mostly slung aside,
Having finished the Sudoku, or a crossword you have tried.
All the rubbish as you call it, every bit belongs to you,
It may have escaped your notice, we left home to start anew.
You are the one responsible for all the mess you see
Sewing, knitting, reading, you really must agree.
Mum, no matter just how messy, home is where we like to be
Amongst the piles of rubbish made by you and not by me!
It was only after my daughters left home I realised who was responsible for the untidy state of our house!
I inadvertently started a thread which is not going anywhere but I like the idea that you did too and received the support of the community.
In the spirit of what has gone before although my story rhyme/rap fails to address anything other than a fantasy story, it is offered here to keep the thread going. Hope you don't mind me poking my nose in without invitation!
A Modern Love Song.
Rita was a spinster she had lived her life for others
When her sisters all left home she was left to look after Mother
She was a very pretty woman and liked by all who met her
But now she was on her own she needed something better
Paul was a local bachelor he worked the fields alone
When all his brothers left, someone had to stay at home
The time was passing by when realizing he was lonely
Only one life to live he decided to shift the boundary.
In the town’s PC World the same young man they met
He told them of the fun he had surfing on the Internet
Laden down with purchases they both struggled home
And any problems either had, were resolved by telephone.
To a national dating site their details they did dispatch
The computer soon decided that they were a perfect match
So they arranged to meet at a Café, The Beijing Rendezvous
A small place outside the town, a place that they both knew
She said “I know it’s daft but there’s one thing I must do
Wear a flower in my hair the first time that I meet with you
I’ll wear some crazy clothes perhaps you’ll take me dancing
I just know from your words that you will be quite handsome” !
They did you know get married and live quite close to here
A 21st century couple who are happy with the love they share
And one thing I’we been told but I’m not sure that is right
I heard they email each other before they kiss goodnight.
Alternate Title: Bogman’s Rap
Try it I think it works as a Rap.
Great poem/rap. It cheered me up on this dull and rainy morning.
This is my latest poem - written in memory of my auntie who died last week, aged 93.
I have to read it next week at her funeral - I didn't want it to be a weepy but lively to reflect her personality.
She was an exceptional woman.
Every time I rang her
She’d always make me smile,
The stories of her exploits
Related in true style.
Her trips to shopping centres,
Restaurants and cafes,
Evenings at the theatre
To see new West End plays.
The garments she had purchased,
Nail polish she’d applied,
The state of English cricket
Or Yorkshire’s latest side.
She’d talk about her garden,
Geraniums in full bloom,
The decorator’s visit
To wallpaper her bedroom.
A new carpet in the hallway,
A leaky tap, now fixed,
A meeting of the residents,
How well they all mixed.
She’d ask about the family,
She knew us – every one,
Remembered all our birthdays,
Although the list was miles long.
Auntie ***** was remarkable,
A lady with panache,
A lady whose appearance
Always cut a dash.
Intelligent and funny
Forever on the ball...
I can’t tell you how I’ll miss
That wonderful phone call.