' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[Marty]

2 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

So here is a selection of my students' Haiku turned in along with their math homework. Some might actually fit the prompt, and some, well...

 

Refreshing and calm,

life is a sweet summer rain

washing over earth.

 

As the snowflakes fall

frosted earth is gently kissed,

in peaceful, still sleep.

 

On the robin's perch,

he watches newfound spring,

awaiting a snack.

 

 

I had to include this one...

 

Math is sometimes hard,

but poetry is harder:

physics is a pain.

 

 

and this response to a hamburger....

 

Stacked high to the sky,

a blend of juice and texture,

explodes in flavor.

 

 

I'm sort of confused as to why students would be writing haiku as part of their maths homework...  

 

But it sure sounds like you offer an interesting syllabus! 

 

I'm glad you told me the last one was about a hamburger, though, otherwise I would probably still be trying to figure out its meaning,

 

And I laughed out loud when I read the penultimate one! 

[Backwoods Boy]

19 minutes ago, Parker Owens said:

So here is a selection of my students' Haiku turned in along with their math homework. Some might actually fit the prompt, and some, well...

 

Refreshing and calm,

life is a sweet summer rain

washing over earth.

 

As the snowflakes fall

frosted earth is gently kissed,

in peaceful, still sleep.

 

On the robin's perch,

he watches newfound spring,

awaiting a snack.

 

 

I had to include this one...

 

Math is sometimes hard,

but poetry is harder:

physics is a pain.

 

 

and this response to a hamburger....

 

Stacked high to the sky,

a blend of juice and texture,

explodes in flavor.

 

Thanks for sharing these.  I would be hard pressed to select a favorite, although I think I would go for the first one.  I question the math skills of the author of number three  

[Marty]

3 minutes ago, Backwoods Boy said:

Thanks for sharing these.  I would be hard pressed to select a favorite, although I think I would go for the first one.  I question the math skills of the author of number three  

 

If I were to be asked to choose a favourite, I'd probably go for the second one...

[AC Benus]

3 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

So here is a selection of my students' Haiku turned in along with their math homework. Some might actually fit the prompt, and some, well...

 

Refreshing and calm,

life is a sweet summer rain

washing over earth.

 

As the snowflakes fall

frosted earth is gently kissed,

in peaceful, still sleep.

 

On the robin's perch,

he watches newfound spring,

awaiting a snack.

 

 

I had to include this one...

 

Math is sometimes hard,

but poetry is harder:

physics is a pain.

 

 

and this response to a hamburger....

 

Stacked high to the sky,

a blend of juice and texture,

explodes in flavor.

 

I think it's wonderful you conveyed the information of my Poetry Prompt to them. The results mostly speak for themselves, avoiding the dreaded 'haiku-speak.' Well, mostly, except those just dashed off for the extra credit you promised

 

The fact that they do avoid haiku-speak, are not a string of three complete poems (one per line), and fundamentally follow the rules of English grammar make me happy You are not only passing along the skills, but the right ones too. I suspect some of your students will keep it up, as a wise person once observed "Every young person must write poetry, if he wishes to drop the young and just become a person." 

 

You've tickled me pink that you've done this.

 

Edited February 5, 2019 by AC Benus

[MacGreg]

3 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

So here is a selection of my students' Haiku turned in along with their math homework. Some might actually fit the prompt, and some, well...

 

Refreshing and calm,

life is a sweet summer rain

washing over earth.

 

As the snowflakes fall

frosted earth is gently kissed,

in peaceful, still sleep.

 

On the robin's perch,

he watches newfound spring,

awaiting a snack.

 

 

I had to include this one...

 

Math is sometimes hard,

but poetry is harder:

physics is a pain.

 

 

and this response to a hamburger....

 

Stacked high to the sky,

a blend of juice and texture,

explodes in flavor.

 

What an incredible feat! Not only you proposing the assignment to your students, but your students acting upon the prompt! Applause all around.

[Mikiesboy]

22 hours ago, Parker Owens said:

So here is a selection of my students' Haiku turned in along with their math homework. Some might actually fit the prompt, and some, well...

 

Refreshing and calm,

life is a sweet summer rain

washing over earth.

 

As the snowflakes fall

frosted earth is gently kissed,

in peaceful, still sleep.

 

On the robin's perch,

he watches newfound spring,

awaiting a snack.

 

 

I had to include this one...

 

Math is sometimes hard,

but poetry is harder:

physics is a pain.

 

 

and this response to a hamburger....

 

Stacked high to the sky,

a blend of juice and texture,

explodes in flavor.

 

i think this is brilliant.  these are all wonderful and even if they don't fit the prompt or the form (i haven't checked) they are all good poems and full of poetry. frosted earth gently kissed ... he watches newfound spring ... life is a sweet summer rain  and the ode to math and hamburger.  They are wonderful and full of insight.

[MichaelS36]

6 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

i think this is brilliant.  these are all wonderful and even if they don't fit the prompt or the form (i haven't checked) they are all good poems and full of poetry. frosted earth gently kissed ... he watches newfound spring ... life is a sweet summer rain  and the ode to math and hamburger.  They are wonderful and full of insight.

I can't argue with that.

[Black Paper]

[Mikiesboy]

1 hour ago, Asher25 said:

That's pretty insightful really.

[Black Paper]

15 minutes ago, Mikiesboy said:

That's pretty insightful really.

WHy thank you. I try 🙂it’s talking to your spirit. That’s why you can hear it...

[Black Paper]

.

Edited February 9, 2019 by Asher25

[Parker Owens]

I posted a pair of sonnets this afternoon. They're here...  https://gayauthors.org/story/parker-owens/disasters-delights-and-other-detours/42

 

[Thorn Wilde]

I wanted to share this thing I found... It's really silly, but really cute, and it is a poem, so...

 

[Black Paper]

.

Edited February 13, 2019 by Asher25

[AC Benus]

For those of you following the Zero to Hero guide and doing the prompts, I've posted an introduction to the aesthetic concept of wabi-sabi. I hope you all have a chance to check it out, and find it inspiring enough to let you to do another set of six Haiku to close out February. Let nature inspire you, even if it's a negative sight. People often get to the point of deep dislike for winter about now (or the height of summer, if you are in the Southern Hemisphere), and your poems have a real shot of connecting with others. Remember, just paint the images you see, but let the concept of wabi-sabi and the Zen sense of humor inform how you see things around you

 

https://gayauthors.org/story/ac-benus/zero-to-hero-a-guide/4

 

[Mikiesboy]

On 2/12/2019 at 2:56 PM, Thorn Wilde said:

I wanted to share this thing I found... It's really silly, but really cute, and it is a poem, so...

 

hehe i like it...

[Mikiesboy]

14 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

For those of you following the Zero to Hero guide and doing the prompts, I've posted an introduction to the aesthetic concept of wabi-sabi. I hope you all have a chance to check it out, and find it inspiring enough to let you to do another set of six Haiku to close out February. Let nature inspire you, even if it's a negative sight. People often get to the point of deep dislike for winter about now (or the height of summer, if you are in the Southern Hemisphere), and your poems have a real shot of connecting with others. Remember, just paint the images you see, but let the concept of wabi-sabi and the Zen sense of humor inform how you see things around you

 

https://gayauthors.org/story/ac-benus/zero-to-hero-a-guide/4

 

okay.. i'll give it a whirl AC ..  xoxox

[Mikiesboy]

Some February Haiku  (i hope)

 

The nuthatch hammers

on frozen sunflower seeds

longing for the spring

 

Now awake, the sun

jealously toasts errant clouds

banishing their grey

 

More snow fell today;

I made Zen piles of snowballs

and then i threw them

 

 

[AC Benus]

3 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

Some February Haiku  (i hope)

 

The nuthatch hammers

 

on frozen sunflower seeds

 

longing for the spring

 

 

 

Now awake, the sun

 

jealously toasts errant clouds

 

banishing their grey

 

 

 

More snow fell today;

 

I made Zen piles of snowballs

 

and then i threw them

 

 

 

I like the snowball one the best. Ikkyu would approve

[Mikiesboy]

5 minutes ago, AC Benus said:

I like the snowball one the best. Ikkyu would approve

that one is more me ...  lol

[Parker Owens]

3 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

Some February Haiku  (i hope)

 

The nuthatch hammers

 

on frozen sunflower seeds

 

longing for the spring

 

 

 

Now awake, the sun

 

jealously toasts errant clouds

 

banishing their grey

 

 

 

More snow fell today;

 

I made Zen piles of snowballs

 

and then i threw them

 

 

 

Absolutely love number three! It tickles my sense of humor. I also liked the sun toasting clouds. Great image!  

[AC Benus]

Happy March! Who's ready for a brand spanking new Poetry Prompt Take a look

 

https://gayauthors.org/story/ac-benus/zero-to-hero-a-guide/5

 

 

[Mikiesboy]

This one i knew by heart ... most of it now.. i post it because i cannot get warm...

 

 

The Cremation of Sam McGee

By Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

 

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

 

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

 

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

 

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

 

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

 

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

 

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

 

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

 

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

 

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

 

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

 

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

 

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

 

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

 

 

[Parker Owens]

@Mikiesboy: my Dad could recite it, and sometimes did, instead of reading us a bedtime story. Thank you for the memory...

[Parker Owens]

A flimsy curtain hems me in

and limits what I see;

I shudder at the useless gown

that stops below my knee;

 

I hear the cheerful bland-faced nurse

explain what happens now,

which only amplifies the fear

appearing on my brow.

 

Is it with interest or alarm

I watch the c.c.’s flow

as swift the tide of sleep must pull

me ‘neath the undertow?

 

Yet as I fade to utmost black,

I smile without a care,

for when from slumberland I wake,

I know I’ll find you there.

 

 

 

This is a response to the latest poetry prompt, on my last visit to the doctor (okay, it was the hospital): Lyrics. Any thoughts?