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  #41  
Unread 06-23-2021, 04:29 AM
mignon ledgard mignon ledgard is offline
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Default I couldn't post

it said BANNED POST repeated over several lines

??

But I revised post #27
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  #42  
Unread 06-23-2021, 04:41 AM
John Isbell John Isbell is offline
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Good morning Fliss,

Or alternatively, good afternoon. I liked this and found it made me happy. So thanks! Am I wrong to hear a little Edward Lear in it?

Also, good to hear that West Country burr again. My sister worked for some years in the Bristol Housing Authority, where she told me one client liked some options and said "Tickee they."

Regards,
John
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  #43  
Unread 06-23-2021, 01:46 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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🍓🍓🍓

mignon, I don't know what happened there, but I've copied and pasted your #27:

revision:
Parallels

flee to the woods
and bark the trees
with the tongue—what
better dagger
than one which wags
—a fountain pen
poking points with
perseverance—
woodpecker drilling
to find hollows
—nothing—to make
something and paint
oneself silly
little animal
lost in the forest

~ml
June 22, 2021


Parallels

I flee to the woods
and bark the trees
with my tongue

what better dagger
than one which wags

or a fountain pen
poking points
with perseverance

woodpecker drilling
to find hollows
—nothing

to make something
and paint myself silly

little animal
lost in the forest

~ml
May 19, 2009

I like what you've done with the poem. It feels like a portrait, insofar as it's condensed into one space, and I still love the woodpecker and the silly little animal :-)

- - -
Good evening, John. Yes, it's a happy piece, written to relieve the stress of homebuying about three years ago.


As John mentioned Lear, I'm posting my Jumblies piece. The silly Scilly party met the Jumblies on St Martin's, which is one of the islands. There's a few interesting things about the island on Wikipedia, including a photo of the splendid daymark :-)


When Coo & Co met the Jumblies

So the party sailed northwards to St Martin's Isle,
00dropping anchor at Bread & Cheese Cove,
before journeying upwards with soup, super-style,
00and a mini yet mighty gas stove.

'We are bound for the daymark, FT,' Coo explained,
00'it resembles a tinned pencil tip
and its radiant red-and-white stripes are maintained
00to assist every barque, boat, and ship.'

'Yay, the daymark!' the St Mary's mossops gave cheer;
00'It is certainly bright,' smiled FT.
'Yes, indeed; and behold, we have strong soup-and-beer,'
00added Coo, 'to heat up presently.'

But as everyone neared the said red-and-white stripes,
00they perceived other colours as well –
there were greens, there were blues, of quite jubilant types,
00a fine blend with the Scilly-sea swell.

As the party drew closer, the colours took shape
00and the greens became well-rounded heads,
then the blues became hands, holding joy-juice of grape
00and some cheese and a few brown-rye breads.

'Who be these?' asked the mossops, their eyes all a-glow;
00'These be Jumblies,' Coo whispered reply –
'I had thought that their wanderings ceased long ago;
00here they are, though, most spruce and most spry!'

'Greetings, Jumblies!' Coo curtseyed, and held out a wing,
00'We are honoured to meet you this day.
I am Coo, these are mossops, and this flissty thing
00is FT.' And the mossops sang, 'Yay!'

All the Jumblies came prancing in pink-paper shoes
00they had fastened well down with a pin,
and shook hands, wings. 'Such pleasure to meet all of yous!'
00they all chorused, with greenial grin.

'Are you travelling again?' asked FT. 'That we are!'
00they responded, 'wherever we turn,
in our swift-circling sieve and our crockery jar,
00and through waters both peaceful and stern.'

'That is fun!' Coo decided. 'And what of your jaunt?'
00Jumblies asked. 'It is Scilly throughout,'
Coo informed, 'seeing many an historic haunt,
00sometimes witnessing ruin and rout.'

'Let's sit shadily down by the daymark, fond friends,'
00said the Jumblies, 'and make a long lunch,
and our wanderings never shall come to their ends
00while there's bread, cheese, and soup fit to crunch.'

So all ate, drank, and merried, and grew very tall,
00parting company just after five,
for the Jumblies to re-visit St Martin's mall
00to buy plums and a seal who could jive.

🍞🧀🥣

I have to take a break from this thread now, as I'm a bit busy updating my portfolio in between working long hours below minimum wage. Do carry on in our absence, though :-) :>)
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  #44  
Unread 06-24-2021, 03:49 PM
mignon ledgard mignon ledgard is offline
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Default Stuttering Critique of a Poem

It's still happening - BANNED word repeated amid the words I posted.

I have no idea what's going on.

Last edited by mignon ledgard; 06-24-2021 at 03:51 PM. Reason: deleted due to reason given within the post
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  #45  
Unread 06-24-2021, 06:08 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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Sorry about that, mignon. I don't know what's causing it :-/

Do you want to try PM-ing your post to me and I'll paste it into a new post here? I have to go to bed now (it's not far from 1am), but I'll be here tomorrow early evening most likely.

Soooo tired. Very odd night.

Best wishes,
Fliss
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  #46  
Unread 06-25-2021, 02:21 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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'Music, FT?'

Well, thank you, Word-Bird. Something cheerful, perhaps?

'On it!'

(^v^)
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  #47  
Unread 06-25-2021, 03:21 PM
Sarah-Jane Crowson's Avatar
Sarah-Jane Crowson Sarah-Jane Crowson is offline
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Hey, I like your jumblies poem. It's full of many lovely things, with engaging voyagers and interesting meetings.

Here's an image that isn't quite Learish enough to do the poem justice, and is riffing off Wallace Stevens (although you wouldn't think it to look at it) but it does contain a hoopoe in pink bloomers, which might just compensate:

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  #48  
Unread 06-26-2021, 01:42 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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🍓🍓🍓

Thanks, Sarah-Jane; I liked writing this one, as you can probably tell :-)

Your image is excellent. I don't know much Lear or Wallace Stevens, but I am loving the hoopoe in pink bloomers, lol, and the purple tones. Do you have an accompanying poem? I'm imagining a conversation between the hoopoe and the horseman (sorry if he's something else!).

Best wishes,
Fliss & W.-B. :>)
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  #49  
Unread 07-01-2021, 02:48 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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🌞

Here's a sonnet in which I'm channelling the thoughts of sculptor Magdalena Jetelova. It's based on her piece on the Forest of Dean's sculpture trail, a giant's throne on a hillside, here; the whimsical elements of the sonnet are mine, of course <(:-)

Why do we humans bow to godly rule,
constructing grand designs to please a name,
esteeming faith as brandishing a tool
for planting every view within one frame?

Who knows what giants birthed throughout these hills:
the starbirds waltzing gaily in the trees,
those multicoloured fish of wailing gills,
the chanting herd that walked upon its knees?

If gods are borne in objects made by man,
then each of us may sculpt a making myth,
select our own creator, draw a plan,
enlist the skills of one good hammersmith.

Then fix upon a high commanding space,
and draw vast crowds to marvel at a place.

🍪🍪🍪

Biscuits? Why, thank you, Word-Bird :>)
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  #50  
Unread 07-05-2021, 02:21 PM
F.F. Teague F.F. Teague is offline
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An interesting time here. We are encouraged to expand our Scilly series. Here's a particularly foolish poem from the current collection:


Moonlit Monks, Abbey Garden, Tesco

The day was fading into dusk and soon the Moon arose –
the lilies loosed their night-time musk, quite pleasing to the nose;
the party – mossops, Coo, FT – had settled in their beds
aboard the ship, on Tresco quay, daft dreams within their heads.

But as the hour of midnight loomed, all woke to rhythmic beat
from where the musky lilies bloomed, and it had seven feet;
'What is it, FT?' asked dear Coo, but FT did not know –
the mossops also had no clue, yet head-jived to and fro.

'Well, let us make a stealthy search,' Coo chirped, and all agreed.
'Seek out a subtle sort of perch!' the mossops, keen, decreed;
in little time a perch was found upon a lofty arch
and through the Abbey Garden ground there came a hepta-march.

A company of monks was seen, black habits all rolled high –
yet not so much to be obscene unto the viewing eye;
they skipped along the garden paths, by trees of palms and flames,
alongside ornate birdal baths and plants of Latin names.

'Hi monks!' called Coo. 'Salvete!' one monk stopped to greet and grin;
FT observed, 'You're having fun, with all your cheery kin!'
''Tis true!' the mirthful monk replied. 'Our lives were rather strict;
amusing pastimes were denied by rule of Benedict!

'But now, upon this spirit plane, we're full of jaunty joy:
we hepta-march through Moon and rain and oft shout, "Ship ahoy!"
'Tis fun to shout,' the monk opined, 'especially to a ship!
Yet more than that, now unconfined, we really love to skip!'

With that, the monk rejoined his flock for seven-stepping thrills,
the moonshine on his ancient smock creating comely frills;
and all the party watched and smiled upon the charming sight –
the spirit monks, all super-styled, and skipping through the night.

🌴🌴🌴
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