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I thought that maybe it was time to have a Poetry thread for all things... well, poetry.
This might include competitions, publications, questions, opinions, examples, or anything else poetry-related.
Comments
I don't know why it riles me so much, but I feel angry when poetry contains 'thee', 'thou' or 'thy' (often used incorrectly, by the way). 'O' is another, or when the verb and subject order are swapped a la Shakespeare.
Just, no.
I am glad to have got that off my chest.
As you were...
Another bugbear:
'Poets' that change the order of sentences to fulfil rhythm or rhyme requirements. If you can't get it right, you're not a poet. If you can't say what you want within the structure YOU have given yourself, find another or say it in a different way or don't say it all.
Unless of course it's to make a point.
In more heartening news, The Caterpillar Poetry for Children Competition is up. It's expensive at 12 euros, but the prize is fab. I just spontaneously and frivolously submitted something.
http://www.thecaterpillarmagazine.com/a1-page.asp?ID=7253
I'd love on here a verse to write
But worry that perchance it might
Cause upset to the fair Brownlee
and also bother Nell Tiny
my clever friend,
but flipping words
doth me offend.
But thou so picky shouldn't be
when thou art reading poetry.
We minstrels all our best do try
and such harsh words bring tears to I.
I'm glad I'm off the naughty list as well
No he isn't, Billy.There's no such thing as a tonic and gin. It's Gin and Tonic and always will be. That's bugged me for so long but now, like you Tiny Nell, it's off my chest and I feel better for it.
Am loving this with all mine heart
Would I t'were cleverer at this art
At poetry I'm not too hot
Shalt thou forgive me? No, thought not.
This has turned into a farce
No pen is going up my ...nose?
This thread is such good fun - and now that there's another serious poetry thread for proper poetry discussion, I hope this anarchic one continues!
And that is what we got.
Sleet and rain with gale force winds,
That night we got the lot.
But there was a journey,
That I just had to make.
No matter what the dangers were that I found in my wake.
There comes a time a man must show,
That he really is a man.
By striving to complete a task
That very few others can.
And so it was I found myself
Battling through the storm.
Leaving far behind me,
Where I was safe and warm.
Four score and ten years I'll have lived
If I last just two years longer.
But I know that I can do this thing,
And reach that place out yonder.
So on I press as best I can,
Though my breathing now is bad.
I must calm my mind and concentrate
On the happier times I've had.
At last I finally reach my goal
And hear those words that please.
"What is it we can get you Sir?
Fish chips and mushy peas?
Thanks for making it sparkle!
That special day so long ago
I never shall forget.
At first I was so nervous
And didn't know what to do
But once I'd got her loaded
It was obvious that she knew.
I threw caution to the wind
And now would have my way.
It did not take me long to find
That she was game to play.
We surfed around together
As happy as can be
You'd be surprised if I told you
The things she let me see.
But now she's old and very slow
I needed something younger
By now I'm fairly old myself
But still retain that hunger.
I keep her quietly sitting here
And see her now and then
But I've move from Windows 95
On to Windows 10.
Itβs a great idea to start a poetry thread, Tiny Nell.
These are the rules I have set for myself over the years for when writing poetry:
Use a standard typeface: Times Roman, Arial or Calibri, 12pt or 14pt.
Double space between stanzas not lines.
Unless it is a shape poem, all lines are justified left.
Avoid archaic words like: Thou, Hast, Lo, Oβer, Thee.
Spelling, punctuation and grammar should follow the normal rules of modern English language.
Do not invert the structure of a sentence just to achieve an end rhyme.
Remember the five senses: Sight, sound, taste, touch, smell.
I saw thee coming o'er t' hill
Your footsteps next I heard
Your lips the tasting at thereof
As sweet as lemon curd
Lo! How I longed to touchest thee
To givest thee mine heart
But run a mile I did instead
Remembering your fart
Of course good poems can make you laugh. I spend half my life trying to write humorous but still good poems.
A mid-life crisis at eight-eight?