I once had a doctor called Roger
Who let out a room to a lodger.
He charged her much rent
As his money was spent
Sending food out to old codgers.
If you want to get published today
You can’t have word rhymes in your play.
They are pre-post-modern
Especially when sudden.
So take care and enjoy feeling ………………..grudges.
[see it’s quite easy]
But the essence of limericks is rhyme.
As in clocks, it is their chime.
But if it’s forbidden
We’ll have to get rid o ’em.
The essence of loving is time.
Their startlingly soft beauty is so gentle,
And they have well lit wondering minds
Choose a plural noun or a name:
A pronoun (her/him/it):
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Read more about Poetry Generator: Create Your Own Poem by www.poemofquotes.com
In summertime, our love is peaceful,
like murmuring daisies floating in the soft breeze.
above our faces,tickling us in playful gestures
In wintertime, our love is warmer—
it walks from bath to bed each night
wrapped and rosy
after a day in heavy,hampering clothes
If skies are blue, our love is out of doors
— two people travelling in the sun to an unknown place,
unafraid and filled with joyful hope
If thunder rolls
our love is moody,
a refuge from the skulking rain and hail.
The lightning flirts across our faces.
Reminding of darkness and fear
Lear
Faustus
When spring flowers bloom,
snowdrops unrolled
bluebells dangling by the stream
and the celandine
our love is soft,
like quiet curved petals on the crocus.
When the autumn leaves down fall,
our love is deeper and we sink
into their soft bed
Our eyes are shining bright
like a harvest sheath of corn.
At Christmas,where ‘ll we be?
Even love is not all knowing
This is not a poem
Where are humans going?
This is never any poem
And nobody wrote it.
And nobody ever knows it.
| synonyms: | unshakeable, immovable, inflexible, unwavering, uncompromising,resolute, resolved, determined, firm, rigid, steadfast; More |
| antonyms: | unsure |
When those we loved are gone into the dark,
From where we come and so will also end;
Then mournful we await a living spark
To light the fire within and sorrow mend.
Reality is not absorbed whole;
Though we have seen, we cannot yet believe.
And pain torments our jagged heart and soul
Until in time the grace comes to receive.
We must believe that we can bear this load,
Even when we fall and lie forlorn.
Help may come or pain may be a goad.
Love may come from those we used to scorn.
To willingly accept may seem too hard,too grim.
Yet when we do ,the spirit grows within
![M2172256 [1024x768].JPG](https://words-cat.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/m2172256-1024x7681.jpg?w=1100)
Photo by Mike Flemming.
A flower is brighter than a diamond.And gentler than a raindrop.
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I rode on that horse on the Merry- Go- Round at the New Year Fair,
And every time I came around,Dad were standing there.
The horses they went up and down,as it whirled around.
To me ,so small, they seemed so high,up above the ground.
You knew I loved those magic horses more than owt at all,
Dad,you let me ride one,though Mam thought I were too small!
I shall never forget the happiness in my heart imbued;
Yet more than I loved those horses, Dad,I loved you.
I wish I were a child again and you were with us today
I think we’d recognize your voice,and listen to what you’d say.
Why did God snatch you up ,it seemed to be so wrong.?
But thank you,Dad, for the Merry- Go- Round,and thank you for the songs.
I think that life’s like a Merry -Go- round that we are turning on.
And every time it whirls around.someone else has gone.
We don’t know how long we’ll ride our horses, so merry,and so gay.
Stan is feeling low and sad.
His good wife Mary has gone mad.
Stan is feeling Guilt and Fear
He knows now that it’s wrong to leer.
Stan has been a naughty boy.
He let a mistress with him toy.
But Mary found his mobile phone
When she was at home all alone.
His mistress lived next door to him
Which made it convenient to sin.
While Mary worked hard teaching maths
The lovers lingered in the bath.
He was meant to do the chores.
Chopping wood and painting doors.
He had to bake the cakes and bread.
So that the household would be fed.
But Stan into temptation fell,
As did his neighbour Anne as well.
They enjoyed kisses and hugs,
And lying down in woolly rugs.
Oh Mary, she was most appalled.
She screamed and yelled and cried and bawled.
So Stan has gone for therapy.
What sort of changes will he see?
He lies down on a long brown couch.
Behind which the therapist crouched.
He says to Stan,”now let it rip.
I want your mouth to be unzipped.”
Was your mother kind to you?
Did she train you on the loo?
Did she wash your mouth with soap?
Was she prone to sulk and mope?
Stan thought this man verbose.
So he kept his own lips close.
When he got the bill to pay.
He told the therapist, “No way”
“You have been the one to talk.”
He glared like a crusading hawk.
“You should pay me,not I pay you!”
What was his therapist going to do!
“I’m glad you’ve managed to speak out.
Your sanity is not in doubt.
I’ll tear the bill up for this week.
And next time I want you to speak.”
So Stan unleashed his every thought
Just as the Freudians once taught.
I don’t know how he feels inside.
But language is a useful guide.
And as he sees his therapist,
His mistress is not greatly missed.
He wanted more attention,
So now his bad ways are all gone!
He got a part time job as well.
So he could pay his therapy bill.
Mary is still teaching maths.
And now it’s she with whom he baths!
I was utterly in love with a Greek
Who found it hard learning to speak.
So we both rolled our eyes
And uttered soft cries.
So his English remained very weak.
“Oaf” sounds old fashioned today.
Swearing and cursing dismay.
Do we need to offend
And rude words to send?
Let’s alter how we interplay.
To call me an oaf was so rude
I might even say it was crude.
But in the long run
We had so much fun
I won’t let this insult intrude.
I
Word of the Day : February 27, 2016 Merriam Webster
1 : a stupid person
2 : a big clumsy slow-witted person
In high school Bryan was a big oaf, so we were surprised not only by his refined mien but by his position as CEO of a high-tech company.
“Here is a person dedicated to minimizing the ripple she makes as she passes through the world. She took up such little space, made such little impact, that in comparison I felt like anoaf of consumption, a wasteful giant, lumbering heedlessly through life.” — Rand Richards Cooper, The Commonweal, 8 Jan. 2016
A long time ago in England, it was believed that goblins sometimes secretly exchanged their babies for human babies. This was used as an explanation when parents found themselves with a particularly ugly or deformed child: these parents wanted to believe that their real baby had been stolen by goblins, and the other left in its place. The label for such a child wasauf, or alfe (meaning “goblin’s child”), terms that were later altered to form our present-day oaf. Although the linguistic history is not entirely clear, auf and alfe are likely from the Middle English alven and elven, meaning “elf” or “fairy.” Today the word oaf is no longer associated with unattractive babies and is instead applied to anyone who appears especially unintelligent or graceless.
I have a Jewish friend who asked me why the Allies did not help the Jews in Europe.It seems not unlike the fear of letting in immigrants now… but worse.And we know Churchill did questionable things like bombing Dresden which had no military reason.In fact if you read the novel Dresden Green you will find that it was full of refugees.
In the night I saw a black cat cross the floor;
I reached out to stroke him
But my hands passed straight through
I tried again as he ran by the bed
but he felt like pure air.
I’ve never seen you again
Even as a shadow.
But I dream.
Something that is so common we may not think about it, is an event liked that one person claims to love another quite soon after meeting them.Perhaps it’s admiration or lust.Who knows?But most probably they believe that this relative stranger is the person who is going to give them all they need in life.By the way,nobody can give you all you need.
The story is declarations of powerful love,happiness for a few months or a bit longer and then the END.Because the love was based on projection.The person loved a creation they had made in their imagination.They believe they have found the ONE who embodied this ideal.When they get to know this person it seems very likely that there will be a gap between the ideal and the real.
Is that the fault of the person who was chosen? Well, it’s a common pattern and flexible people usually adapt their desires and realise that though not perfect the loved one is “good enough” or they gently disengage.
.Inflexible people often fiercely blame the love object for not being the imagined delight and beauty they wanted.In fact it seems they were having a relationship with a ghost; with part of their own self and not with an OTHER.Then this other is attacked for being other.
To a lesser or greater extent we all do this in our lives.These imaginings may draw us to someone.Or falsely deny us even getting to know someone who might be a great friend.
There are so many obstacles in relating to people it’s a wonder we do it at all.Perhaps some people are better at imagining and adapting.And even a gentle break up or letting go is often painful.Sometimes we just give up.
I think nowadays it’s too easy to start relationships without the old patterns of courtship,engagement and marriage.Similarly people may get too friendly too soon and then drop the ” friend” when the find they are utterly different.I remember a man saying to me about a woman he liked a lot:she’s in the BNP[ a racist party].He was shaken.But I knew that she looked very like his sister and so maybe he imagined unconsciously she would have the same values as his sister did.
I suppose we all have these odd ways of connecting or disconnecting.And it is frequently nothing to do with the actuality of either person.
More frightening is the fact that psychopaths are very charming.Though not all charming people are psychopaths,of course.But it someone has a very powerful charm it may not be a good sign.Someone I know got engaged 2 weeks after meeting a man and ended up divorced and caring for his mother for years, while he ran off with someone else.Speed can be a bad sign…
If we never learn others are quite different people with different desires,likes and feelings then life is very hard.What I think is most of us only learn it partially.In a rigid society it may ironically be easier as everything is controlled by rules.In ours it is easy to get into something without ever thinking hard about it.Thankfully true psychopaths are rare but narcissism is increasing.
Syntax is different in writing
Than in speaking, or shouting and fighting.
Beauty and order;
Noting our borders;
Good syntax should be clear and enlightening
syntax
Line breaks: syn¦tax
[MASS NOUN]
Late 16th century: from French syntaxe, or via late Latin from Greek suntaxis, from sun- ‘together’ +tassein ‘arrange’.
Synthetic tears don’t benefit the sad,
Whose world is trembling after recent loss.
Real tears may stop many going mad.
Though for the onlookers there is a cost.
Yet do not stand by helplessly confused.
Tears and grief are calls for loving arms.
If friendship’s real, we cannot be bemused.
Though in our hearts we may feel strange alarm.
Fear of grief is worse than grief itself.
Ruminating on our horrors harms
Feeling to the heart of what is here
Softens pain and so will be a balm.
Fear,obsession,inward looking eye,
May cause us to desire only to die.
Across the road the almond tree
Will fill with buds in January.
Beside the porch,spiked rosemary
Flowers its blue in memory.
Waking these midwinter morns
I long to see Spring’s lighter dawns
Subtler changes each day bring
The time to us when dawn birds sing
They make new nests,the swans do too.
I once made a nest with you.
The apple tree, quite safe would be.
That shall be the loving tree.
The tree will utter forth its pink
As I write this down with my blue ink
When I look, I see the strength
Of trunk and branches green-brown length.
The roots are navigating soil
Where the worms and insects toil.
Another wood beneath the ground,
Is growing deep without a sound.
And its birds do not fly high
For in dark soil there is no sky.
All beings which live upon this earth
Turn to dust to feed new birth.
From the dead,the living spring.
Thus nature her fresh blossom brings.
I’m not sure what my poem title means
The phrase came to me in a dream.
So I just wrote it down
On the hem of my gown.
Like a little gold nugget,it gleams!
If you want to become an artist
Starting is what’s the hardest.
Embellish your desires
With Orpheus’s lyres.
And do not too easily desist.
The very activity of writing
Will set your mind and heart brightening.
The activity itself
Will give you its wealth.
Though even success can be frightening.
One sentence leads on to the next.
Pretend you’re just sending a text.
Your mind will ignite
Like gelignite.
As long as your Muse is not vexed!
More writing leads onto more,
Like opening a magical door.
The more words you write
The clearer grows insight.
And into your mind metaphors pour,
Imagine your mind is a bowl.
Empty,like an artist’s own soul.
The creative Muse
This emptiness will use.
Oddly this way os your goal.
Artists feel low and inferior.
Their wealth is hid in their interior.
Your Muse will fill you
And give you your due.
As long as your desires aren’t ulterior.
Your desire should be for Nothing at all.
So you can never in the end really fail.
The God in your heart
Makes creativity start.
So wait quietly there for your Call.
All that you’ve done and have been
By your angels is ultimately seen.
So fear not the pain
It will be for your gain.
You ‘ll be like a tree newly clothed with green.
| I say necessity is the mother of extensions |
| My nerves unreeled like a film |
| As curvaceous as a rat-run on a hot thin roof |
| As nervous as a long veiled bat in a room full of flocking hairs |
| Oh,never shut off until tomorrow what you can do dismayed |
| A new wheeze for wives.Go on shriek. |
| A hollow history troubles one |
| Nice guys finish passed |
| A fright by day, she looked sufficient in the night |
| Babies can nip and suck if smiling |
| Men cannot flock like stoats.Queue to speak. |
| No accountants s have taste |
| No cranium is entirely hollow |
| Oh,woe.oy vey,let’s go. |
| No gold’s’ jarred me |
| No if’s ,no off’s. no butts,no verbs.Just words. |
Synopsis is a word derived from Greek.
Synthetic has a similar undertow.
And as we modern English people speak,
The thoughts of ancient humans unknown show
Long dead are our ancestors of course,
Though each cell of our body has their genes.
And when the scholar rises to discourse,
Hebraic,Greek or Latin gleams.
Education’s task is acquisition:
Vocabulary and its written forms.
We don’t learn much from watching television.
Passivity may cause our minds real harm
What we say is deeper then we know.
Words each have their special undertow
http://poetrycircle.com/forum/showcase/lyn-lifshin-the-poetrycircle-interview.51/
How my heart sings 