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A place for Poets to discuss their craft

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Writing Club
  1. What's new in this club
  2. Hey Parker 🖐! Thank you for taking time to read and comment! You are always so sweet and kind. Be well in all you do!
  3. I'm a puzzle doer by nature. Nothing more puzzling than spinning words in 17 simple syllables. Sometimes silly, often blue... Wild curlies pearled in dew. Tonight, though, waxed me coifed in an entirely different cloth. Any thoughts out there? Rebuttals? Walked on...back, then forth One too many passes swept Know your footsteps well Faggots lost in haze Tendrils wisp ethereal Embers crackle; PoP! Naked before God Pearly gates were closed to me Entered from arrears
  4. Thank you, grazie, for thinking about this poem. I love the way you put it: nothing is sexier than a man dressed in confidence.
  5. Begs the question, what makes a man? The finery (or roughness) of his clothes or the finery of the man himself... mind, body and soul? I say nothing is sexier than a man dressed in confidence...although a nice pair of pants wrapped about a sweet apple'd ass never hurts🤔😇! Meow MeYuM Thanks for the thought provoking poem...awesomeness! Enjoyed molto!
  6. Ahhhh I haven`t seen it earlier, when we talked about it. But now I see it. It is "das (junge) Blut" ihm (Possesivpronomen to Dativ dem Blut) he brews the poison for the "junges Blut"= means a young person. That`s the grammatical possebility. (Maybe a young hill climbing annyoing overly jolly Bavarian 😄)
  7. Hehe, I now understand verter better. One, it means to specifically move substance/content/energy/grace from a large to a smaller body or vessel. Two, in the poem, I figured out the correct translation verb is "to shed" -- as in to shed thy grace on thee
  8. Seeking the input of all German speakers The following poem is by Bruno Quandt. Believe it or not, I have a handle on "Mistbeet" 🤣 but in the final stanza, the poem suddenly begins referring to a "him". As in the line "Dann brau ich heimlich ihm verruchten Trank". I have a couple ideas who this may be in regards to, but any idea you'd like to toss out there, I'd be happy to see and discuss So wie ein Mistbeet will ich meine Seele halten Und sorgsam hegen ihrer Pflanzen schwarzen Flor. Sie wachsen, seltsam lauernde Gestalten, Aus dem durchjauchte
  9. Thank you, Parker. It's a mountain of a poem to climb. I hope this translation of an early 19th century Romantic poem is readable. I always think it can be better though...
  10. @AC Benus How I enjoyed reading this! You made me want to wander those places and greet those people you describe.
  11. Anyone have any thoughts on this free-form poem...? A Peregrination you're as fortune-blessed as your sister, Lombardy yonder set, with a hundred streams across you. And groves aplenty, snow-blossomed and crimson, foreboding woods, beset by wild, deep-green leaves -- and the Alpine ridges of Switzerland's shadow neighboring you; for near the earth of the houses abide you, and hear within the silv'ry sacrificial bowls whose wellsprin
  12. Snowflake This is a unique experience for a ‘snowman,’ as Jimmy likes to call me. Brian had gotten tired of ice, clouds, and cold and needed a change of scenery. I can deny him nothing, of course. He is my beloved husband, after all! However, I have always tried to shun ‘tropical paradises’ since they tend to be very hot places and ‘snowmen’ do not do well in hot climates. I was assured that I would melt away to a little pale puddle if I was exposed to the direct heat of the tropical sunshine. I have now learned some new things about tropical places: there are tropical places an
  13. It’s a Magic Elixir i made!
  14. I don’t know how to ask politely for what I want from another man, what etiquette dictates in such circumstances: do I dress requests in finery, or should they come garbed in plain, rough clothes?
  15. ~Destruction~ Blow it all away. Make it go away. Throw it all away! Destroy it all today. Right here. Right now. How? With your mind, You can DESTROY all of the things that are all unkind. Destruction is required for reproduction. Just, like the storm, You were born with reconstruction. You have the ability to create a new tranquility. You have the responsibility. You have invincibility. Make your own destiny. You do not have to be rich. All you need is a penny. And, with that seed, indeed,
  16. . Recollecting a Visit to W. B. Yeats It is most pitiful to watch men go In search of beauty with despairing eyes, And what it is they lack as this world lies Open before their gaze they do not know. These porcelain skies with billows of graven snow They paint on cold, thin cups, and draw from strings Voices of mourning winds and sense of wings; From woods rob sad-faced flowers and bid them grow Nearer their souls; ay, creep out in the night And steal the stars and the bright Moon from Heaven, And bring them home to decorate th
  17. Any native speakers of Spanish willing to help me with my attempts to translate Lorca...? I guess I can dive in. I'm wondering how to tell when the verb verter means to transfer liquid, as opposed to when it means to translate (or, move something from one language to another).
  18. What a wonderful poem. Thank you so much for sharing it! I particularly liked these lines - I am drawn to them, and the memories they bring to me. Thanks again.
  19. "A poem for a November day" Oh, for a day of burning noon And a sun like a glowing ember; Oh, for one hour of golden June, In the heart of this chill November. I can scarcely remember the Spring's soft breath Or imagine the Summer hazes. The yellow woods are so damp with death That I have forgotten the daisies. Oh, to lie watching the sky again, From a nest of hot grass and clover, Till the stars come out like golden rain When the lazy day is over. And crowning the night with an aureole, As the cl
  20. [Epilogue] O true and tried, so well and long, Demand not thou a marriage lay; In that it is thy marriage day Is music more than any song. Nor have I felt so much of bliss Since first he told me that he loved A daughter of our house; nor proved Since that dark day a day like this; Tho' I since then have numbered o'er Some thrice three years: they went and came, Remade the blood and changed the frame, And yet is love not less, but more; No longer caring to embalm In dying songs a dead regret, But lik
  21. Thanks @chris191070for reading these. We are nearing the end of In Memoriam
  22. 129. O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock, Flow through our deeds and make them pure, That we may lift from out of dust A voice as unto him that hears, A cry above the conquered years To one that with us works, and trust, With faith that comes of self-control, The truths that never can be proved Until we close with all we loved, And all we flow from, soul in soul. Tennyson
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