' Live-Poets Society ' – A Corner For Poetry

[AC Benus]

Just something I typed up this evening. I think it's beautiful

 

 

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is?

Has it anywhere been set down

in how many ways this seed may be sown?

In what various vessels of gossamer

it can float across wide spaces?

Or upon what different soils it can fall,

and live unknown,

and bide its time for blooming?

Owen Wister

[Aditus]

I wrote a poem for a friend.

 

For S.

Cold waves nip at my bare feet,
the air crackles like charged black velvet.
Your taste on my tongue is still sweet,
lingering heat,
and I am naked in the rain.

 

Lightning bolts jigsaw the sky.

Clouds race each other in a wild hunt.

And then in a blink of an eye
you said good-bye
and I am left, naked in the rain.

 

Your voice still sings in my head.
Ti ameró per sempre.
Aren’t  these the words you said?
Red.
And I die naked in the rain.

 

 

You can also find it here .

[Aditus]

Just something I typed up this evening. I think it's beautiful

 

 

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is?

Has it anywhere been set down

in how many ways this seed may be sown?

In what various vessels of gossamer

it can float across wide spaces?

Or upon what different soils it can fall,

and live unknown,

and bide its time for blooming?

Owen Wister

I love it, as a reader, a writer and a biologist. It unites all three of me. Thank you, AC.

[Emi GS]

Just something I typed up this evening. I think it's beautiful

 

 

 

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is?

Has it anywhere been set down

in how many ways this seed may be sown?

In what various vessels of gossamer

it can float across wide spaces?

Or upon what different soils it can fall,

and live unknown,

and bide its time for blooming?

Owen Wister

That was fantastic Ben. Now one knows when and how a love seed can be planted and will blossom. You have said it in an extraordinary way. I love it. Thanks for sharing.

 

And it has its corny way of understanding to...

[Emi GS]

I wrote a poem for a friend.

 

For S.

Cold waves nip at my bare feet,

the air crackles like charged black velvet.

Your taste on my tongue is still sweet,

lingering heat,

and I am naked in the rain.

 

Lightning bolts jigsaw the sky.

Clouds race each other in a wild hunt.

And then in a blink of an eye

you said good-bye

and I am left, naked in the rain.

 

Your voice still sings in my head.

Ti ameró per sempre.

Aren’t these the words you said?

Red.

And I die naked in the rain.

 

 

You can also find it here .

A beautiful poem of love in a sad way. I know sometimes life will not be fair to us. You have given us the saddest part of it. Thanks for sharing with us.

[Parker Owens]

Just something I typed up this evening. I think it's beautiful

 

 

Has any botanist set down what the seed of love is?

Has it anywhere been set down

in how many ways this seed may be sown?

In what various vessels of gossamer

it can float across wide spaces?

Or upon what different soils it can fall,

and live unknown,

and bide its time for blooming?

Owen Wister

It is more than beautiful; it enchants and inspires.

[Parker Owens]

I wrote a poem for a friend.

 

For S.

Cold waves nip at my bare feet,

the air crackles like charged black velvet.

Your taste on my tongue is still sweet,

lingering heat,

and I am naked in the rain.

 

Lightning bolts jigsaw the sky.

Clouds race each other in a wild hunt.

And then in a blink of an eye

you said good-bye

and I am left, naked in the rain.

 

Your voice still sings in my head.

Ti ameró per sempre.

Aren’t  these the words you said?

Red.

And I die naked in the rain.

 

 

You can also find it here .

This sent images skittering through my mind like dry leaves in an autumn wind. So much artfully packed into so few words. This is a gem, Adi, and I love it, despite the pain that radiates through it all.

[asamvav111]

Somebody told me I should share my poetry here. So take a look : https://www.gayauthors.org/forums/blog/482/entry-16388-returning-sunshine/

 

oh btw, this is a seriously cool place. Ciao.

[Parker Owens]

Somebody told me I should share my poetry here. So take a look : https://www.gayauthors.org/forums/blog/482/entry-16388-returning-sunshine/

 

oh btw, this is a seriously cool place. Ciao.

Glad, so very glad, you did.

[Emi GS]

Somebody told me I should share my poetry here. So take a look : https://www.gayauthors.org/forums/blog/482/entry-16388-returning-sunshine/

 

oh btw, this is a seriously cool place. Ciao.

Hey. That some'body', my dear friends, is Me. Emi...

 

And Nice poem. Thank you for sharing with us, here...

[Emi GS]

Finally I tried my third poetry prompt ~ Lyrics. I tried my level best.

 

But what I need here is: A clean and descriptive comment of what I did, how I did and what should I have done for excelling in this form.

 

Blinds off— up with a yawn and stretch—

Messy hair— drowsy mind—

A cranky mood and those tired eyes—

Clumsy— my morning stout.

 

Rigid— astounding exposure—

Lazy strump— crazy stride—

Fresh and strong smell with awesome taste—

Appetite— gracious start.

 

Anyone guys...!!!???

 

Edit: Ben I am counting on you!!!

Edited August 13, 2016 by Emi GS

[AC Benus]

Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi
vo mesurando a passi tardi e lenti,
e gli occhi porto per fuggire intenti
ove vestigio uman l'arena stampi.

Altro schermo non trovo che mi scampi
dal manifesto accorger de le genti,
perché negli atti d'alegrezza spenti
di fuor si legge com'io dentro avampi.

Sì ch'io mi credo omai che monti et piagge
e fiumi et selve sappian di che tempre
sia la mia vita, ch'è celata altrui.

Ma pur sì aspre vie né sì selvagge
cercar non so ch'Amor non venga sempre
ragionando con meco, et io con lui.

Francesco Petrarca

 

 

Alone and pensive over the lonely countryside,

I measure my paces both late, and dragged rigidly,

and to my eyes holding out, set to bolt, intently
at the sight stamped in the gravel of a human stride.

No other weapon but fight-or-flight is fortified

in the view of my fellow men, who evidently

ascribe joylessness to my actions generally,

and have no idea how I blaze on the inside.

But from now on, I vow these mountains and hills will dote,

these waterways and woods will know in me they strengthen,

and indeed, will see what hidden from others shall brim.

For no matter the harshness of the path, or remote,

wanderer no more, that Love won't leave my side again,

motivating, reasoning with me, and I with him. 

AC Benus, translator

 

https://www.gayauthors.org/forums/story/ac-benus/onehundredandfifty-fivesonnets/20

 

 

(The usual anti-same-sex-love group conjured up a mythical female for Petrarca's remarkable poetry to be about, but sonnets like his No. 35 play with the strong clue that his beloved is indeed a 'him.' We do so need to do our homework, come up with as much evidence as we can and end this whitewashing of Gay people out of our own history.)    

[AC Benus]

I wrote a poem for a friend.

 

For S.

Cold waves nip at my bare feet,

the air crackles like charged black velvet.

Your taste on my tongue is still sweet,

lingering heat,

and I am naked in the rain.

 

Lightning bolts jigsaw the sky.

Clouds race each other in a wild hunt.

And then in a blink of an eye

you said good-bye

and I am left, naked in the rain.

 

Your voice still sings in my head.

Ti ameró per sempre.

Aren’t  these the words you said?

Red.

And I die naked in the rain.

 

 

You can also find it here .

I left a review, but thank you for posting this lovely piece

[AC Benus]

Finally I tried my third poetry prompt ~ Lyrics. I tried my level best.

 

But what I need here is: A clean and descriptive comment of what I did, how I did and what should I have done for excelling in this form.

 

Blinds off— up with a yawn and stretch—

Messy hair— drowsy mind—

A cranky mood and those tired eyes—

Clumsy— my morning stout.

 

Rigid— astounding exposure—

Lazy strump— crazy stride—

Fresh and strong smell with awesome taste—

Appetite— gracious start.

 

Anyone guys...!!!???

 

Edit: Ben I am counting on you!!!

So, the Lyric challenge is to introduce the poet to rhythm, specifically an alternating beat of 6 and 8. You've done that here, but some of the word choices get in the way of a full appreciation. 

 

- Blinds off? I'm not sure what you mean here. Do you mean blinder or blinds up perhaps? But you can save the line by switching prepositions. i.e. "Blinds up--off with a yawn and a stretch" That would mean the window blinds are up and you are off starting your day with a yawn and stretch. 

 

- My morning stout. Do you mean beer? I'm afraid this one really puzzles me.

 

- Strump. I'm not familiar with this word, Emi. Well, other than a bawdy abbreviation of the word 'strumpet.'

 

Overall it seems that you are talking about being refreshed at breakfast? Is that the general picture of the poem? 

Edited August 13, 2016 by AC Benus

[AC Benus]

 

Here is a response to the Ballade poetry prompt...any comments?

 

Across the crowded floor I see your face,

but if I want to watch, I must be sly;

you mustn't get an inkling or a trace,

for if you did, then all would go awry;

so every moment I must turn my eye,

parenting interest in my host's guitar;

lest he detect me holding back a sigh,

and all the world must know what fools we are.

 

You move amidst the crowd depicting grace,

while on the margins, tongue-tied, standing by,

and knowing that I look so out of place,

to fade into the woodwork will I try,

and slip into the night without goodbye,

so I might make my way out to my car

before another guest could ask me why

and all the world must know what fools we are.

 

Yet even as my longing I efface,

your voice rings out behind me, asking why;

and turned to you, my head hangs in disgrace,

I mumble my excuses in reply;

but even ad I babble and supply

a convoluted personal histoire,

you take my arm, and dumbly I comply,

and all the world must know what fools we are.

 

When in the night, conventions we defy,

for you have left your chamber door ajar,

I wonder if the gods can hear me cry,

and all the world must know what fools we are.

 

Okay, I'm glad I found this little video, because one rhyme has been bugging me since I first read it.

 

I have no qualms about rhyming English words with non-English ones, as long as the sounds are a natural match. Histoire ends with an soft 'aah' sound, and is thus not a suitable rhyme for the closed consonant sound of are's 'Arr.' 

 

 

Is there another way you could approach the line? (And, I'm sorry - I know I'm not a perfect rhymer myself, but this one line can be saved, I know it ) 

Edited August 13, 2016 by AC Benus

[Parker Owens]

@AC...thank you so much for your hard work in helping make my first foray in Ballade better. Too bad there are no pirates in the poem to say: "arrrrrh!"  Or maybe just reciting it in a broad South Boston accent would do? Sigh. Back to the woodshed.

[Parker Owens]

The following poems are not mine.

 

I am posting this for a friend on GA who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. I include the first line at the behest of the author. Comments and responses would be much appreciated, I'm sure.

 

 

Parker Owens caused me to be created

 

don't breathe

waiting intensely

while the silence echoes

until the moment for applause

erupts

 

§

 

counting

always watching

now preparing, then one

glorious sound triumphantly

bursts forth,

golden

shimmering perfection dying

slowly away until

nothing remains

but breath

[dughlas]

I like them. I hope one day the author is able to acknowledge the work.

[Mikiesboy]

yeah they're good .. tell the poet to get his/her brave on 

Edited August 15, 2016 by Mikiesboy

[Doctor Oger]

"Histoire" and "we are" do rhyme if you pronounce the latter britishly. It's a quite natural match then.

[AC Benus]

 

The following poems are not mine.

 

I am posting this for a friend on GA who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. I include the first line at the behest of the author. Comments and responses would be much appreciated, I'm sure.

 

 

Parker Owens caused me to be created

 

don't breathe

waiting intensely

while the silence echoes

until the moment for applause

erupts

 

§

 

counting

always watching

now preparing, then one

glorious sound triumphantly

bursts forth,

golden

shimmering perfection dying

slowly away until

nothing remains

but breath

 

First a bit of foolery: the dedication looks nobler in Latin, imo

 

Parker Owens fecit me, qui creabitur

 

There. That looks much more appropriate, don't you think, dear poet and dedicatee  

"Histoire" and "we are" do rhyme if you pronounce the latter britishly. It's a quite natural match then.

It's not a match in French; brogues would be a silly thing to expect for a word that is not common in the English language.  

[AC Benus]

 

The following poems are not mine.

 

I am posting this for a friend on GA who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. I include the first line at the behest of the author. Comments and responses would be much appreciated, I'm sure.

 

 

Parker Owens caused me to be created

 

don't breathe

waiting intensely

while the silence echoes

until the moment for applause

erupts

 

§

 

counting

always watching

now preparing, then one

glorious sound triumphantly

bursts forth,

golden

shimmering perfection dying

slowly away until

nothing remains

but breath

 

Oh, I suddenly know what they are about, but cannot really say too much, lest I 'unmask' our budding young contributor to Live-Poets.

 

I will say that knowing what they are about adds tremendously to my appreciation, and I say, Bravo! They are lovely. 

[Doctor Oger]

It's not a match in French; brogues would be a silly thing to expect for a word that is not common in the English language.  

"Brogues" - Do you mean the Irish accent?

(You don't need a particular regional accent for that, just that overall Oxbridge-BBC-combover. Then the r in "we are" pretty much disappears and it sounds like "wiyah". I read it like that and it seemed like a very straightforward, clean rhyme to me.)

[AC Benus]

"Brogues" - Do you mean the Irish accent?

(You don't need a particular regional accent for that, just that overall Oxbridge-BBC-combover. Then the r in "we are" pretty much disappears and it sounds like "wiyah". I read it like that and it seemed like a very straightforward, clean rhyme to me.)

Rhyme as you see fit

 

Brogue: the term comes from the Irish word barróg, meaning "a hold (on the tongue)," thus "accent" or "speech impediment."

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brogue

Edited August 16, 2016 by AC Benus

[Emi GS]

So, the Lyric challenge is to introduce the poet to rhythm, specifically an alternating beat of 6 and 8. You've done that here, but some of the word choices get in the way of a full appreciation.

 

-

Blinds off? I'm not sure what you mean here. Do you mean blinder or blinds up perhaps?

But you can save the line by switching prepositions. i.e. "Blinds up--off with a yawn and a stretch" That would mean the window blinds are up and you are off starting your day with a yawn and stretch.

 

-

My morning stout. Do you mean beer? I'm afraid this one really puzzles me.

-

Strump. I'm not familiar with this word, Emi. Well, other than a bawdy abbreviation of the word 'strumpet.'

 

Overall it seems that you are talking about being refreshed at breakfast? Is that the general picture of the poem?

~ I liked your suggestion on first line.

 

~ Stout is in the sense of built body/figure. Like in "Morning stout= Morning figure"

 

~ Here I mistyped the word. Its 'stump' not strump.

 

Yeah, a morning refreshing coffee. I always wakeup with the strong smell of coffee or tea. Its me and my morning ritual start like this.