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A place for Poets to discuss their craft


Writing Club
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  2. And people wonder why it's so important to save and read letters. This reads like a wonderful poem.
  3. . I feel the truth in his body Later: Everything is okay again and I didn't have to move downstairs after all. He slept alone on the beach [last night] because he needed some sleep. Doesn't get much with me. But that's his own fault for being so incredibly beautiful. We wake up two or three times in the night and start all over again[.] The ceiling is very high like the loft of a barn and the tide is lapping under the wharf. The sky amazingly brilliant with stars. The wind blows the door wide open, the gulls are crying. Oh, Christ. I call him baby like you call Butch, tho
  4. May I say each is lovely in it's way for the feelings evoked. Thank you for sharing them.
  5. Two poems from Robert Nichols. During the First World War, Nichols was often anthologized and greatly admired as a soldier poet. Some of the graphic scenes I've read from him are worthy of study and remembrance today. Here are two poems from him: the first, a War Sonnet; and second a rhapsodic piece he wrote in 1918. In context of one another, they are very telling. Begin, O guns, your giant requiem Over my lovely friend the Fiend has slain From whom Death has not snatched the diadem Promised by Poetry; for not in vain Has he a greater glory now pu
  6. Hey Parker 🖐! Thank you for taking time to read and comment! You are always so sweet and kind. Be well in all you do!
  7. 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
  8. Thank you, grazie, for thinking about this poem. I love the way you put it: nothing is sexier than a man dressed in confidence.
  9. 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!
  10. 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 😄)
  11. 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
  12. 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
  13. 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...
  14. @AC Benus How I enjoyed reading this! You made me want to wander those places and greet those people you describe.
  15. 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
  16. 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
  17. It’s a Magic Elixir i made!
  18. 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?
  19. ~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,
  20. . 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
  21. 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).

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