My Writers Circle

Poets Corner => Review My Poetry => Topic started by: Allie on March 29, 2007, 07:30:11 PM

Title: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on March 29, 2007, 07:30:11 PM
Complete compiled version of the MWC Attempt to write the Longest Poem in the English language can be found here:

http://www.words.fords.co.nz/archives/LongestPoem.html

For PDF see bottom of this message
 


Note on Contributions to The Longest Poem in the English Language

Please study this notice carefully before joining in our attempt to write the longest poem in the English language.

Our poem is a collaborative attempt to write the longest poem in the English language.

By posting to the poem each contributor, while retaining copyright in his or her contribution, waives editorial rights in the context of The Longest Poem.

The poem is a journal of the lives of its writers, both personal and social. Write about your day, about what's going on around you or in the wider world, how you feel about particular social issues or, in fact, about anything at all.

The poem reflects the fact that it is a meeting of many minds and cultures, and so different styles and content are welcome, with the proviso that abusive, vulgar or otherwise objectionable material will be removed.

Please do not give your poem a title, except for heading it up as mentioned below. This is because your contribution is a part of the whole poem.

The all-over style will be that of free verse.

Any poetic device is permissible, with the exception that there should not be more than two end rhymes in any one contribution.

Each new contribution should be headed up as follows:

MWC:board name of contributor:location

A contribution will thus look like this: 

Date and time
MWC:Anon:USA

Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon.
The little dog laughed,
To see such fun,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

The first line of each individual contribution should be loosely linked to the one above in some way, with the aim of unifying the whole. This can be done by by repetition of one word from the last four lines of the previous contribution or by use of end rhyme.

Contributions should be a minimum of two lines, with no maximum.

Please put any comments regarding the poem itself, our progress towards our aim, or any questions, on the Writing Games and Activities thread at http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=8229.0 (http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=8229.0) , and not in the thread below (which is solely for contributions).

Allie and Fordy will be compiling the whole into single documents on an ongoing basis, but it would be a good idea for those particularly interested to also do this for themselves, and it would be nice to have these as backup. Done on a daily basis this compilation should be quite simple and not too time-consuming (although if it turns out to be so we will know that we are doing well as regards length.)


Finally, if you know of any member of MyWritersCircle who might be at all interested in contributing, please give them directions to both threads.
Title: Re: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on March 29, 2007, 07:46:33 PM
Thursday, March 29, 2007

MWC: Leigh, USA
       

Thursday tried to send me to my knees.
The slick frost glinted soft-
steam tendrils curling from the shingles.
We hurried past, to school, to doctors, errands-
until the hours perished, molten bronze.
I almost missed it, lost
to duty's clarion.
Tomorrow I will stop, and look again.


Title: Re: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on March 29, 2007, 07:50:46 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

I almost lost it too,
The start of something big
But things never go quite to plan,
There are always little ends
To be tied up,
Then others unravel when
Your back is turned.
I believe they call it
Life.
Title: Re: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on March 29, 2007, 09:30:25 PM
MWC: fordy, NZ

Life?
Sometimes it seems
a chaos of papers.
Desk-strewn, interleaved dramas
awaiting their moment of triumph
when their, "I told you so"
will mock your failure
to spend your life
reading.

Then,
sometimes it seems
like the wind-swept call
of the tussock;
waving its sensuous hair
on the Hills of the
High Country.
And I long to be pulled down
into your beauty.

Maybe tomorrow.
Title: Re: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: kalikan on March 29, 2007, 11:26:31 PM
MWC: kalikan, USA

Tomorrow is overblown,
trite. 
We're told to live in the present,
to enjoy those little smiles,
or maybe citric sunsets.

But the present offers nothing
but time.
The present is enveloped in
bills, paperwork, files,
fights with parents,
fights with spouses.
The present is filled with
pain from your throbbing toe
or boredom from broken clocks.
The present even consumes,
quickly eating away at those favorite
pasttimes--slowly savoring
choco choco crunch ice cream,
or watching your son frolic
under a citric sunset.

Once the sky is
emptied of our favorite fruit
and bespeckled with frosty-gleam,
just hope tomorrow
will bring less consumption,
or atleast a little more ice cream.
Title: Re: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on March 30, 2007, 04:48:32 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

It's a cold day over here:
The hours ahead sit tingling
On the plate of my new day
Like many-coloured scoops of ice cream.
There is so much to be done before
Each one melts into the other,
And all the time I thought I had
Swirls in a sludge about the
Useless spoon of my intention. 
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Prospero on March 30, 2007, 09:35:16 AM
But if I look again
I know that I will find
Another year is past
Will I lose more than fear
That I might yet lose all?

Prospero - United States
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on March 30, 2007, 11:03:15 AM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Ye Gods, I'm being head-hunted!
But it's better than losing all...
Poetry is one of those things
that either comes to me in a flash -
sadly with a complete absence of
dramatic smoke or sound effects -
or not at all.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: little lubo on March 30, 2007, 03:24:17 PM
Oh yes Ye Gods.
They looked down on me today.
Of all the corners to turn, and to think I helped it along
The thick sense of something once sacred now lost has sent them screaming for deliverance
to some long gone motor trade lover of tyranny in the guise of a long ago God.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on March 30, 2007, 05:47:36 PM
Tyranny
is not too strong a word
as you laid about with sword
pen-sharp with bitter symbols;
runes upon its cutting blade.
I have turned aside
mightier thrusts than this
parried blows from worthier foes
Yet none from such
as share my blood.
Title: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Terrasque on March 30, 2007, 09:50:39 PM
MWC: Terrasque, USA

The reign of feud and hatred will ever uphold,
as we are fed sins by arrogant tyrants,
with fiery breath and bloodied swords.
It always seems evil is more mighty
than good, but it isn't so, it is merely a
state of the mind.  Good will forever humble
evil ten fold.  Evil only creates the illusion
of power, for it is far easier to be truly evil,
than it is to be truly good - and we cling
to an enigma thread of hope.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: noelgama on March 30, 2007, 11:31:19 PM
MWC: Noelgama, India

The world is an illusion
Blinding everyone, concealing the truth
Making you believe what you think you are seeing
And seeing what you want to believe is the truth
"Believe in what you think is the right thing
And see that you do what is right"
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on March 31, 2007, 01:03:22 AM
MWC: Leigh, USA

Truth is, another day is spent
in the taking care of others
obligations, innocence,
cannot be negated.
Drive the children, call the friend
turn the post key in the box
wipe the noses, build the lunch
put away the toys once more.
Don't act frustrated.
Smile, laugh, sit on the chair
little bodies in your lap
read the pictures, point out words
this is red, and blue, and green
here are A, and B, and C
sticky pages turned once more.
Lay the sweet small heads upon
pillows worn and soft.
Be glad you waited.
Turn back the paisly window sheer-
out beyond the fir-limned reach
fifty northern miles far
the volcano sleeps.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on March 31, 2007, 03:52:47 AM
MWC:fordy:NZ

Yes, you may sleep now my fiery giant
but even your snores are fearful to behold.
You just laughed in your sleep
and the lahar ran down your face
like a bad cold.
This time we were ready for you.
Tangiwai stood your assault. 
This time.
This time we did not surrender
one hundred and fifty one souls
But we still stood in awe
at the power of your snore.
Sleep on Ruapehu.

(more information here: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/category/story.cfm?c_id=68&objectid=10430198 (http://www.nzherald.co.nz/category/story.cfm?c_id=68&objectid=10430198))
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on March 31, 2007, 05:27:21 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

I awakened just a while ago
To the snore of a plane going over
Headed for some far-off place,
The States or Oz or New Zealand.
It felt strange to me
Because I had just returned from
Such a journey.
In my dream
I had been riding on a bus rigged out
Like a church,
With crosses on the walls,
And people I used to know
Sitting by me. They talked of the old days
In ways that they wouldn't have done
Before,
The secret goings-on,
Told me things about themselves
That I had never known.
It was as if, in dreaming of them,
They had been unpeeled
To become
The people I once wished they had been.
For they were my enemies then
And now I think they might have become
Something more.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on March 31, 2007, 09:18:27 AM
MWC Lin - Holland


There was pain, such pain
His last journey to the roundabout
We had passed through so many times.
I braked, he fell off the back seat,
I cringed and silence fell
He tried to recover as I carried on driving
He would never know where I was going,
I felt like the ulitimate betrayer.

Our last journey like the man
Who walks the thin green line to his death
There was pain, such pain
Tormented, I reached the traffic lights
Will we never return this way together?
Goodbye sweet brown hairy friend
You cannot go on feeling this way,
I love you, I hope you understand.




Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Camille17 on March 31, 2007, 10:49:24 AM
Wishing and hoping for something more…
a futile preoccupation.
The SECRET, as many are now discovering,
is “knowing” it is ours, and envisioning as already present
that which we most truly desire.
Who could have imagined the fire
burns inside us all the time
and all we have to do is activate the power
and claim it.  Ain’t life fine!
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on March 31, 2007, 01:21:21 PM
MWC. Bubbles. Wales, UK.


I sit quietly, in luxury, or what passes for it,
thanking my angels through salt tears.
Longing for the past and its static reassurance.
I shuffle through the rooms of vanishing scents,
searching him on my intaken breath.
An envelope, hastily opened, the white triangle of a broken corner fallen to the floor
from his desk, the quick last action before he closed the door.
After he'd packed his clothes, after he'd searched for his keys,
he'd seen that letter. 
His fingers touched it, and disgarded it.
I do the same, in fury, it was just junk mail.

I look as I did before, everything appears the same,
and yet he is gone.
His absence has ripped my features, weighty invisibility pulls at my mouth,
I am coated in ennui,
I am covered by grief as thick as black treacle, sticking me to this empty certainty.
He has gone.
Away, to uncertain horizons where other women will hold his hand,
And kiss him and feed him meals I cannot.
To a shiny new job.  To a life just started.
Oh, how I miss him.

I am to start a new life, they say, free from his dictatorship,
Or see the world.
Perhaps it is long overdue, one friend said,
He stayed too long, so this is good,
that he has gone.
But I recall his white fluffed head turning to my voice, how he cried for me, lustily.
In the ancient days when I was his world.

Seven o'clock comes, and the meal is for one,
mechanical TV laughter.
No need for routine, should I walk around naked, or take a lover, or turn his room into a shrine?
Oh, how I miss my son.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on March 31, 2007, 07:23:57 PM
MWC:fordy:NZ

Sons are a heritage from the Lord
So the psalmist said.
I wonder what mine is doing now?
Probably just gone to bed.
But that's sons for you;
wake when you sleep
sleep when you wake.
Odd that.
I was a son once.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 01, 2007, 12:51:21 AM
In contemplation we are one thing
it is what we do that makes us.
One dark night only forty years ago
I met my college roommate just return from Asia.
a young man from Hope, Kansas,
captain in olive drab with  Silver Star
speaking across the table from his empty sleeve.
Two cigarettes burning and his hands shaking.
It was easier for him to hurl the live grenade
out the door of the helicopter
than to meet my pretty young wife
with his face so scarred.
Today he is an honored man,
not one to forget that visit,
so long ago, always fresh in my mind.
It is hard to say what forms a friendship
and makes it last through war and peace,
choices which took him south to Florida,
me beyond the artic circle.
Yes, we are the people unpeeled
by burning in fires of action
or simply eroded by the water of years
playing on some rock of character inside.
For so long only words on paper
kept our souls in tandem
despite waves of change
sending us to poles of distain.
There was in that first shy handshake,
faded by time,  some communion
that has outlasted the upturning of the earth
a thousand times in kaleidoscopic patterns
never imagined in strangest dreams.
After all these years our souls
are pared down to what we are.

As my eyes wander from words on the screen
I wonder how actions so long ago
imprint themselves so clearly
on this sun drenched day in spring.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: chillies on April 01, 2007, 03:44:08 AM
MWC chillies UK

Ah, spring again
How time seems to fly
Seasons merge unnoticed
Without you I feel only winter
When will my summer return?
I cannot know
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 01, 2007, 04:27:57 AM
MWC Lin -Zwanenwater Nature Reserve, Holland

There was just one moment a second of thought,
“Sit down” I said “Sit and contemplate
The first day of Spring”
I sat,
I pondered,
I listened,
To the song of the Greenfinch,
A raw scraping sound, mean and territorial.
I felt the Maron Grass, blown westward,
Sprouting from within
The Reindeer Moss.
A day of sun and warm feelings

Seeking birds, I longed for the return
Of the magnificent Bluethroat.
His song, bursting waxlyrical.
I sat,
I waited,
I listened,
Robin sings beside the pool whilst
Blackbird is chased by her beau.
She bows low and runs away,
To the bracken below,
Alarm calling.
He knows where to find her.

Greylag Geese are swimming in the pools,
I count, six, seven, eight nine, ten.
Making notes on species found today
I watched,
I saw,
I wrote,
Oh! Wait!  Just one sound I know so well,
Bluethroat, back from the North,
Such a teasing glimpse.
My chest pounds,
Spring is really here and I'm alive with joy.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 01, 2007, 04:57:24 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Yes, spring is here again,
And with it my ambitions
To renew myself.
I have laid out new plans
The way a farmer does his furrows,
And now intend
To plant the seeds
Of my tomorrows.
It all needs patience,
The slow treadmill walk
The calorie-counted days,
But the journey in itself
Is interesting in prospect,
The reaching out towards something
That is surely the essence
Of being human.
I may not be about to turn
The world on its head
Through my vision,
Or discover a cancer cure,
But there is a simple pleasure
To be found in laying out the map
Across the table of my life,
And choosing my own road
To summertime salvation.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on April 01, 2007, 06:41:51 AM
MWV: Saturnine: UK

like Gyppo, I've been head-hunted;
the same gentle, steady pressure
Post something, post something, add to the poem
We need everyone.

But, what can I say?
I never write about my daily life...
still, this morning I woke, uncharacteristically late
My husband lay, sleeping sweetly still
still smiling in his dreams
and one cat, the baby substitute,
was nestled in my arms.
The other stretched, furry belly exposed
on a make-shift pillow-bed on the ground.
And I was happy, grateful.
It's like Al Zolynas says:
It's the same new gift every day
and I can't believe it
...the same new gift, every day.
Despite the repetition, I am always amazed.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 01, 2007, 07:19:30 AM
MWC. Bubbles. Wales, UK.

The same, the same, always the same.
Tread the known steps with wearisome feet and greet
The sure morning.
For it is always present, our sleep but plays hide and seek
With the light.
Touchstone for our darkness, sublime new day.
All around newly born, our slumber ebbs and living beckons
us to worship.
Disgard the blindness, tear away the ailment, scourge your senses.
Purge the scab of detachment.
Hush, Lark is talking to the wind, mountains sing
siren songs of the ages.
Beaded grass a-whisper with spiders' webs rest underfoot, glistening.
The butter sun in majesty arises, her prism servant beams bestowing
Jewels on the land.
The salmon sky departing as Sapphire takes her hand.
And a soul with blinkered eyes watches.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Johnorman on April 01, 2007, 08:18:09 AM
MWC:Johnorman. NZ

I leap involuntarily
As the salmon at the gurgling
Frothing foot of the rushing weir
Anxious to comply with the insistent
Call that more than I have is yet to be
That much I know while all else is unproven
I flick to the junction where stream bows to gravity
Missing the point again would be tragedy perhaps for me
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: SweetRosalyn on April 01, 2007, 08:28:21 AM
MWC: SweetRosalyn: Wales, UK

I watched on Saturday
Tears bubbling over like the blood
that's seeped for sixty days now,
watched her shake as platitudes lined
her stained knickers.

I watched on Sunday
a green screen that blurred the world
and shook a finger at me,
that said 'she's dying' as I made glasses
of whiskey and vodka and ale
for old men, and smiled as
barmaid of the year.

I watched on Monday
as she rocked back and forth
on the floor, with her firstborn son
on her lap, redirecting tributaries
from his sight, and aching
for the waters that had washed away
her hope.
[the baby still lives.]

I watched on Tuesday
holding the hand of her husband
who spoke through a fetus
lodged in his throat,
as the nurses said one day
or two days
or ten
And one in five chances echoed
through the room
[the baby still lives
in her tightening womb]

I watched on Wednesday
as five became twenty
as the flood became worse
and they said it had started:
her baby was gone
[the baby still lives
sent forth a placenta
as a gift to her mother]

I watched on Thursday
as they still heard her heartbeat
still waved her hand on the screen.
Her mother grew blurry, unfocussed,
uncertain, saw the world through
long syllables that ran through her veins.
Her husband grew bolder,
hung onto the words
[the baby still lives
our baby still lives]

I watched on Friday
as they talked of two weeks
two weeks and she'll make it
she'll crawl through in red.
(they tried not to think
of the shape of her head.)
My best friend informed me
she wished she was dead.
[but her baby still lives]

I watched on Saturday
tears boiled out
like the daughter inside her
as she walked from the hospital door.
And I'll watch her tomorrow
And I'll watch her on Monday
And I'll watch when she stands
by the side of the grave
with a headstone as big as the coffin.
I'll watch as she cries
for this unfinished person;
her baby;
Amber Margaret Pierson.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 01, 2007, 09:56:59 AM
MWC Lin - Holland

Her baby son is listening to the song of the sea,
Ear to the shell that sends him messages from Mummy
The rain is coming
The herring gull is mewing
Dogs are tugging at sea weed
And barking glee to passers by.
Enchantment

Where is she now? What does she say?
The wind is warm with just a gentle bite.
Whilst children play in Cornish seas,
We turn to Sally Port and head for home.
The child ,shell to his ear,  still listening,
To the whisper of sound within
Hope


Along the road to Hugh Town the ship has sailed,
Peace prevails along the once busy street,
The child carries his prize
The shell, means more to him
Than just a message,
Assurance that soon he will see his mother again.
Satisfaction





Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 01, 2007, 12:13:43 PM
Our poem is the quilt of life
together we weave the story of this world.
For those who sing in fresh spring
we celebrate and dance free footed.
With those others who face
the sorrow of ongoing being
we weep awhile feeling the enternal drama
and our presense in the joy of strife.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 02, 2007, 03:31:44 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Yes, the dramas of our lives
Seem to be repeated over.
We always work the same quilt
With slightly different patches.

When I was a little girl
My mother would answer the door
To find the Half-a-crown Woman
Standing there.
She always asked for the same thing,
A half-a-crown to tide her over.
I hated my mother being so mean
Sending her off empty-handed.

It wasn’t till years later
I found she had diddled my mother
Who, young and short of money herself
Had fallen for her story.
She was well-known as a begging ass,
For never returning her borrowings,
Some people work, said my mother,
And some live off others.

Now I’m a grown-up woman
When I switch on my PC each day
The Half-a-crown Woman’s children
Are queing up to talk to me.
My loan request has been approved,
Just fill in a simple form,
Or check my Barclays bank account
And send the number on.

There’s dodgy software from Verna
With moneybak guaranty,
While Mr Buba Diallo
Wants an urgent word with me,
It seems he’s got millions waiting
In an African bank somewhere
If only I will kindly stash for him
A hundred million more.

Whatever the advances
In technology or science,
It seems that nothing changes,
In human nature’s design.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 02, 2007, 04:07:53 PM
MWC  Lin  - Holland


I'm changing my life tomorrow
I’m becoming more independent each day.
I’ve got nothing to stop me from travelling,
Perhaps I should become gay?

What if I changed my nationality?
Supposing I'm black instead of white?
Does the sound of my voice do your head in?
Do you see a different person in me now?

No longer do I wish to be a loner,
I want to be social and bright.
Ill give all my money to charity,
Would you really care when I've gone?

If you ever change the person inside you,
Will you think how it is for your man?
Do you love him any less on a Friday night
When the beer has flowed down his shirt?

Take a chance and make changes,
Feel the fear and go crazy
Be slim instead of fat
But most of all....................

Stay focussed













Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 02, 2007, 07:36:33 PM
MWC. Bubbles, Wales.


Focussed, hocus pocus.
His magician's hands swiftly blind us
Sly, fat and bald, all the bad bits
Like his hidden, mould rimmed apples.
The stall holder in the onion-wafted market
never changes.
Nor do his clothes, sackcloth moss-green itchy jacket, ox-blood leather patches on the sleeves.
Patches on his patches.
But he wears a real Rolex.
Smile at him, perhaps he's got a wife who hits him.
Or kids who pretend he's not there
because they hear us say,
'Swindler.'
Smile at him, he could change.
Today is maybe the day he smiles at me.
I always walk by, there are good apples in the supermarket
at half the price.
The checkout girl there wears a Timex.
And smells of scent, not body odour
like him, but,
perhaps today he will change.
Perhaps I will, my hands scrabble for a pound, in my jacket pocket.
But, I can't do it, eat what he's touched.
His rusty bolt voice slips under my feet
and I retch on the machine oil miasma of his breath.
Yes, he is unsavoury and I am not sweet.
Perhaps it is me who should change.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: kalikan on April 02, 2007, 09:44:17 PM
A pound of what?

A pound of meat,
a pound of dough,
a pound of fat
jig'ling to and fro?

An ounce of knowledge,
a feel for work,
a gleeful poem
with the slightest quirk?

A poem here,
a poem there,
a poem from countries
everywhere.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 03, 2007, 09:43:38 AM
And a poem of a far country
where weather will always dare
to intrude into our life, so...
from six o'clock on snow fell
huge white flakes floating
on to the early green grass
and with it the mind float
into a swirl thinking of the change.
That change is coming is inescapble
all that matters is to see the beauty
in the coldest, wettest fear.
Inside the halls may wind in darkness
but outside the paths in fields
take us ever on new journeys
and when we come to the fence
remember it is only wire.
One hand on the solid post
even trembling as we climb
it is not long before we cross
to the new path over the water.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 03, 2007, 11:57:00 AM
MWC - Gyypo - UK

Over the water and far away
my daughter is teaching English
to children who want to learn.
Eighteen years old, five feet tall,
and as Cornish as a Standing Stone.
With a class of one hundred
most of them taller and some
much older.  But Kizzi's in charge.

Knobbly black knees forced underneath
or jutting above child-sized desks.
Their hard won words erased each evening
so the precious paper can be used again.
I glibly throw words into my keyboard
whilst they clutch a short stubby pencil
and wrestle with the language of hope,
knowing that daydreams can come later.

Gyppo
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on April 03, 2007, 04:48:33 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA


Ah, the words, thrown into the keyboard,
instant gratification, in black pixel on the screen.
Just an insignificant wiggle, a thin mark,
easily, with press of finger pad on plastic.
So many years, these hands flew over the squares
depressing and releasing, instinctual aim.
I can tap-dance my heart and mind with fingers
through channels, down my arms, and out again.
Fascinated with the visual manifesto
of my own mysteries revealed, lying plain
almost leaping, through the space before me
from my neurons to the neat reply rectangle.
So far from slate and chalk dust, or the quill-
All the same, still.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 03, 2007, 05:46:24 PM
MWC - Lin -Amsterdam Artis Zoo, Holland

Gorilla
Still, the tiny childlike ape,
Cradled in the arms
Of its mother
Just as a human child.
I watched  her at the zoo,
Today was Tuesday and
All was quiet as
I crept behind her
Watching as she slept.

Orangutan
Borneo man, orange and arrogant,
I watched your youngest son,
Perform acrobatics on the iron railings.
Staring out from behind the glass
You were looking  right through me and
Me looking through you.
A meeting of eyes,but no conversation.
You'd had enough of visitors.

Chimpanzee
We opened the cage for the chimp
Who poked her finger through the bars
Desperate to touch me
I wanted to touch her too.
She tried to tell me something,
Was she really happy in a cage?
She gently squeezed my hand,
Had I really understood her communication?
Were my manners and protocol correct?



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 04, 2007, 05:05:36 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

We touch one another
Every day,
Hold hands, hug, kiss.
Our bodies reach and feel,
We see and hear and smell and taste
The presence of the other beings
Who inhabit our world.
And yet
We are nearer to one another
In our minds,
In some place we cannot see.

When you physically hurt yourself,
I do not bleed.
My blood does not run
In sympathy with yours,
No matter how much I wish to share
Your pain.
But when you are wounded in the soul
I, also, cry:
My soul bleeds with yours.
We are joined to humanity
In some secret place
That is not just skin and bone.
So do not tell me that the flesh is all,
My tears know different.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: noelgama on April 04, 2007, 05:48:42 AM
MWC: noelgama : India

      She gets up all by herself
   And then she limps back into the dorm
   She rests her head on the pillow
   And through the tears
   Thinks of her son
   Her lips move as she whispers
   “Lord, watch & keep him when I am gone
   Ah! Till we meet someday up there in paradise”

     No one to talk to, when she’s feeling so blue
   No one to cry on, when the pain comes on
   No one to lean on, when she cannot go on
   She’s a destitute woman
   Just a destitute woman

   So she lays awake all the night thru
   Still she’s all dressed up
   Waiting for someone
   She looks up expectantly
   Up at the ceiling, ready for Him
   Tonight she’s very sure
   That the Lord will knock on her door
   Ah! Yes, tonight He’ll be callin’ on her

   And then there’ll be, no more feeling the blues
   No limp, no shame, no more tears of pain
   No ‘old’, no ‘young’, no more sorrow beyond
   She’ll be destitute no more
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on April 05, 2007, 12:25:46 PM
MWC: Saturnine: UK

The Southgate demolition is underway
it looks like Baedekker's struck again
mountains of rubble, concrete
no longer reinforced with coiled steel strings
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on April 05, 2007, 06:36:13 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA

We met at twelve, down at the faded picnic table.
The children gave no shadow. There were games,
and guilty snacks in crinkling plastic wrappers.
No shortage of sweet apple juice, for thirsty mouths,
after clambering over painted metal castles.
We watched in patient pleasure, swings and slides,
and shared the age-old pleasantries of mothers.
Beneath the new buds reaching for the sun,
we sat in speckled shadow, looking on.
Until my friend leapt up, and shot across the bark dust,
a denim blur, to grab her youngest child.
A girl of only two or three, she'd fallen-
from atop the blue and yellow structure,
a drop at least of seven feet and change.
We inspected every inch, the wailing child,
my friend held her close and closed her eyes.
She was fine, she said, just fine, and kissed her.
And indeed she was; soon, back at playing-
all unaware, with wood chips in her braid.
We wiped our eyes, and tried then to remember,
what had been so important,
just moments before.



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 06, 2007, 11:32:23 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

To be a Catholic this day, when I was small,    
Was a very serious thing.
You were not supposed to laugh or have fun,
And there was no cinema or TV.

Instead there was the endless church visit,
Stations of the cross, and priest’s dark drone,
No flowers on the altar to ease
The mournful screeches of the church choir.

The nuns said everyone should be miserable
Because Jesus had been put to death.
That didn’t make sense to me, however,
Since Jesus was God and couldn’t die.

On a day supposedly of redemption,
When all the world was cleansed.
I thought everyone should have been smiling
And shaking hands.

I know now the sadness was another myth,
Just a grown-up pretence.
The glum faces were because the pubs were barred,
Making Good Friday anything but.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 06, 2007, 12:29:10 PM
It is Good Friday here
birds singing and the grass growing,
it is the spring air of Easter time,
a holy time to many lifting spirits.
I feel a great connection to the whole creation
and do not doubt that some intelligence
has made this for all creatures to perceive.
The hows and whys are debated
by wise and foolish and are cause for hate
for some who cannot see behind the glory
that is the world in which we live.
We know that today many are joyful
while some, fellow beings, just as much,
suffer for sins they did not commit.
The only true saviour speaks quietly
urging us to love, forgive, and practice joy.
Our undertaking is to live
until we know this reality.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 06, 2007, 03:14:39 PM
MWC - Gyppo - UK

Reality?  Today I found
it's still there.  Lurking
inside aching muscles
and 'clickety' joints.
Despite 'those damned adrenaline blockers'
the Warrior still lives,
inside the easygoing Hippy.
An aggressive young thug
picked the wrong 'old git' to annoy.
No bloodshed on either side
but, when I turned,
uttering words of peace,
he saw a different message
in my eyes, dropped his own,
and shuffled away,
as if he were the older man.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: kalikan on April 06, 2007, 04:27:59 PM
kalikan--USA--MWC

Past the thousand pound shoulders,
past the leaden chin
lies a shame that smoulders,
a dreadful thought within.

Actions are more powerful than words,
But what of words laced with
poison,
poured about through a perforated
mouth for the roots of all to hear.
Or maybe even words like cracked
stained glass,
clinking about the bloodied ears
of all shined upon by its
glory.

Blood and flesh are part of me,
yet are they mine or are they
His?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 08, 2007, 04:33:41 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

There is no way to answer this
Until we understand
The whole story.
Were we written once,
And for all time?
Or are we just a draft
Of something better,
Full of crossings-out and
Insertions,
Ready to be cut and pasted
Onto new pages?
Does the author sit down
In the middle of the eternal day
To rewrite our souls?
Where will we find the answer?
In a church,
Or elsewhere?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Melita on April 08, 2007, 08:20:47 AM
MWC:Melita:UK

He'll be at church now,
always on Easter Sunday,
with pious clasped hands to please his mother.
Trying to sit still and work out
what the Bible means, except he
only correlates words with music.
He boasts a five-string bass, which he plays
lazily and sings in a growl to rival Tom Waits.
He adds drum'n'bass beats to the organ,
freestyles the middle 8 of a hymn, hums
ska riffs to himself and wonders
how he came to drink several too many
after they played the blues last night.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 08, 2007, 09:48:39 AM
In this windy place on Easter morning,
it is nature playing drums on the roof,
and again there is a southwesterly with rain
carrying information from the sea.
Somehow it is clear this was all meant to be;
it is left to us to read the signs.
We all play our part in the design,
some are dancing in tropical light,
while others look out through darkened windows.
Here we come together to make
a sort of worship not suited for the church,
but in its way an offering to eternal good.
if the waving of branches in the sky
is to be properly understood.
Give thanks by offering a word
for out grand enterprise of poesy.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 09, 2007, 12:29:07 PM





MWC.  Bubbles, Wales, UK.


Yes, let us give thanks,
with our hands clasped around golden plastic,
or blue, tapping number codes.
Trying to get through.
Hunting in Mammon's chantry whilst You Arise anew,
each year less lauded than the last.
In stoned basilicas and lilaced chancels the faithful sing hushed songs
of Hope in a slowly dying language.
The Gate stands ajar for the returning.
Inviting
and invisible.
We wait in a queue, maimed ears untuned to their music.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Stupot on April 09, 2007, 04:08:01 PM
MWC Stupot UK

We wait in the eternal queue,
for the Reapers finger on our shoulder,
the signal of our impending Judgement.
But is there a Judgement?
Or only soil or ash and
the science of decomposition.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 09, 2007, 04:47:28 PM
Talking of decomposition,
There is something about this Easter
That seems to have depressed the spirits.
Poets have begun to look inwards,
Towards some hidden mystery,
Rather than examining the world around them.
Could it be the recurring sound of distant
Iraqi bombs, the posturing of Iran,
The British Ministry of Defence allowing
Its newly-released sailors
To sell their stories to the tabloids,
In a bizarre act of prostitution,
Or the timpanic tales of global warming,
With their apocalyptic visions
Of a thousand tsunamis and lost worlds
Ucovered beneath the poles,
Or even the strange and once unimaginable
Sight of Ian Paisley sitting down
With Gerry Adams of Sinn Fein,
That make the world seem so like a dream
These days, and nightmare often?
Perhaps there is nowhere else for poets
To retreat to,
But their own castles in the air,
Seeking the comfort of
Their own unrealities.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 09, 2007, 05:59:57 PM


MWC. Bubbles. Wales, UK.

Be kind to me, tread gently on my transience.
I am my touchstone.
Remember my fragility, then pile the reasons high.
I live, they lived,
and vapourous spawning billions will also have the pleasure.
This leperous ship of black cracked glass, spotted with lustful greed,
sails on, un-caring and un-hindered.
Unstoppable and vast she floats across your conquered bones.
Yet safe in the cabins of pointed fingers
and at our captain's table of shame,
all lifetime's crewing is the same.
No improvement, no blame.
Take us back to the beginning, then, whoever You may be.
Why don't you shake us till we squeal?
Or give us peace to know we are no worse or better,
no crueller,
than those who went before.
Please.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Melita on April 10, 2007, 05:15:41 AM
MWC:Melita:UK

I whispered 'Please' as the tugboat pulled the black freight in,
and we waited on the shoreline.
I watched you, unlovely child, pottering with
shells and crabs and seaweed in the dawn light.
The boat crunched on the sand, loud against
the soft curving of morning.
You wandered further as they heaved the hull higher,
beaching the boat. I saw the black shape, still.
A man nodded and the others watched
for my reaction. They murmured words to me
about approximated time of death, times of high tides
and explanations for suicide.
I nodded and they left.
You were half a beach away by now, half a world.
I called you back, and tried to summon enough moisture
from dry sea air to tell you 'Baby, your Daddy's gone.'
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 11, 2007, 05:46:57 AM
MWC. Bubbles, Wales, UK.




Away to the playing fields of imagination,
blithe obscurity,
the obscenity of living over and done.
Hush, here come the rattled assurances, the bare faced beliefs.
The indent of toes in disgarded shoes, spectacles in drawers.
Pass them on to the Third World. 
In India, molecules of you will sit on darker bridges.
Virgin morning and cruel birds still uninformed, sing aloft,
undiminished by my loss.
One day ago.  So long ago.
Where are you now, no, don't answer, for I know where you'll be in a ragged week?
I want to walk the sands of Bali in a procession.
I saw it once, a bright edged page I turn when in search of beauty.
Would you prefer the soft slap of waves, you, ashy, on the knitted palm leaf platter?
Away, away to the deep, people could be smiling and dressed in pink.
And yellow.
Hushed bells would ring,
Fallen coconuts, virgin green,
gracing caramel diamond sands.
Friends would whisper songs of the earth.
We would not weep.
Shall I take you there?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on April 11, 2007, 06:24:39 AM
MWC, Saturnine, UK

I wish I hadn't taken me there
Easter weekend with the outlaws
and though my father-in-law's words
were most certainly not poetry to my ears
perhaps we can relish them here
in their full comic glory.
he talks at you like a steamroller
all that's wrong with the world
how things should be
never a question, "How are you?"
never any sharing of goodwill
just a constant barrage of
racist, sexist, ill-informed statements -
Over dinner:
"the worst thing we ever did in this country
was let in all these immigrants
In twenty years' time, we'll have no racial purity!"
(I, being of one of the offending races
am still stunned into silence by these statements
his son-in-law, also too dark by half, just gapes, though
pictures of the three "half-caste" grandchildren grace the kitchen)
....and still, over coffee
"It all went wrong when we let women own property:
that's why there's so much divorce in this country
- If a woman's not happy in her marriage,
she can just leave
whenever she wants!"
....and on, over breakfast:
"Young people don't know the meaning of work
spoiled by the nanny state they are
if they'd had to graft on the land like I did...
well, they wouldn't do it, we'd all starve!"
over and over and over
and still, into the night
the things he would ban overnight, if he were in charge:
budget airlines (as long as he could still travel freely)
duty free shops
employee pensions
annual pay rises for workers
mixer taps
side mounted wing mirrors
car radios
TV broadcasts after 11 pm
trade unions
alcohol for the working classes
belts without braces
and on and on and on and on.
I wish I could have him banned overnight.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 11, 2007, 06:42:09 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Can we ever really know another person,
Without hearing what he says?
I think we can.
This gaunt man walking towards me
Bent over with the weight of
Some terrible burden,
Perhaps an unhappy marriage,
Or a rift with his father way back in youth,
Or the cutting sadness of losing a child,
I do not see him as a scientist might,
A skeleton clothed,
A mechanism that works this way or that,
An outward specimen of mankind,
But naked in his being, as if some magical vision
Had entirely revealed him to me.
I see his savage hungers and his pride,
The things buried deep within his nature that
His mother glimpsed
That first moment he was laid upon her breast.
I clearly see what he has been
And what he will become.
His truth flashes across the closing distance
Between us,
This man I have not spoken to, nor ever will,
Who is not even aware of me or my scrutiny,
Whose eyes rest briefly on me,
Unnoticing, and then look away.
This stranger now approaching,
I know him well,
As if we occupied the same groove,
Shared the same sadnesses and joys.
Now we have reached one another, and
For just one moment I breathe inside his skin,
Then am left bereft as he passes by.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Prospero on April 11, 2007, 09:13:30 AM
Prospero USA

The dancing jester
skirts the narrow edge
his face a skull
of unredeemed
dreams and follies
into my sleep
he comes and
whispers to me
vast secrets
that pass into
chill oblivion
as I wait and wake
into a somber
day of rain
and snow
where no birds sing
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 11, 2007, 01:30:23 PM
MWC:  Gyppo  UK

The Jester grew bored at his desk
and turned off the processor.
He donned his motley,
of muted Greens and Browns,
not the red and yellow
of tradition,
and walked out to see the world.

Spring was in the air,
with the scent of flowers
and the perfume of Young Ladies.
And people were smiling.
Yes smiling at strangers,
even at the weird Hippy
in his tatterdemalion rags.

The girls parade their fashions,
some with the innocence
of the truly virginal,
their eyes bright with curiosity
but without speculation.
Without the 'I know now' look
which shows they can't help wondering.

Sharply dressed businesswomen
sit on park benches,
limbs neatly arranged
as artificially perfect nails peck
fastidiously at 'lean cuisine',
every calorie balanced against
their ideal self image.

Not a crumb falling
to feed the waiting pigeons.
Perfect hair, immaculate clothes,
subtle perfume - never overdone -
and a perfectly painted mouth.
Impeccably correct body language.
Nothing to offend, and nothing to please.

But at the snack waggon the gypsy-dark
girl wears a shapeless smock,
a natural unpainted smile,
and the welcoming fragrance
of freshly grilled Bacon.
She wears it all with a casual grace
that Ms Perfect could never match.
 
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Johnorman on April 11, 2007, 01:47:31 PM
Johnorman: New Zealand

Aye, prospero lad,
skull I did,
to the island.
Me and Miranda,
comely lass of
my own making.
Unversed though,
in the powerful
loosener of my tongue.
Is it my will leads me
to fanciful flights
where no sparrow
dare fly, or yours,
as when leading
adoring crowds
whence you willed.
Spearing with barbs.
shaving off a pound
here or there,
or in a country
where cheese is
princely currency.
Off course we drifted
several times;
a tortuous voyage
I reckoned my
bro could never
recreate, but he did.
In the process
enticing black sorcery
to twine wispish
tendrils around my
burdened soul.
To the point where
willingly I will cast it
overboard, for seabirds
to argue about
interminably, and longer.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on April 11, 2007, 02:43:02 PM

my cat loves seabirds
loves their call, echoing in the garden
loves their feathers, as they scatter the soil
but more than that she loves my computer
loves its inexhaustible warmth
loves the purr of its ancient fans
She loves too, the underfloor heating
the hum of the washing machine
and that ultra-toasty space between me and my man
under the covers, while we sleep
sometimes daring to squish her,
a cosying feline, the jam in the sandwich.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: SweetRosalyn on April 11, 2007, 03:02:06 PM
SweetRosalyn: Wales,UK

My cat's called Kayla
and she only cost eight pounds.
I bought her in the queue at Matalan.
I'd been buying clothes,
tiny little boy clothes
for a friend, and when I looked at
teething rings and 3-6 month bathing suits
I felt small and big at the same time.

I was 6 years old
my little sister sucking everything
and spilling baby food on bibs.
Her nappies smelled (I still remember
how to fold them from a terry cloth, I think,
the memory's just hiding)
I had toys
a bear that growled
bugs bunny who hopped around the house
(we hopped out of the front door once
before we got too scared and hopped right back)
a dolls tea set in a polystyrene case
so precious that even I never broke it.

I know I have a man to hug me now
when I am sad or down
I know I have a job
and pay council tax and vote
I know.

I ought to whisper this next part,
because I am too big for small
but still too small for big:
I want to buy boy clothes in 0-3
and nappies and bibs and fluffy
stuffed cats called Kayla.
I don't want to buy them for friends
or cousins or nieces and nephews.
I want to be big
but I can't. 

It's harder to grow than it is to shrink.
So tonight I'll curl up with my cat
(whatever my boyfriend might think.)
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Melita on April 12, 2007, 06:16:15 AM
MWC:Melita:UK

My feet have shrunk.
When did that happen?
Somewhere between 16 and 18,
my average size 5's reduced to
tiny splayed size 3's, so that
I can wear vintage now.
Did my feet overshoot?
And when I reached 5 foot 3 and stopped,
they had to recede, to balance me out.
Shouldn't they have known I'd never be
more than 5 foot 5?
Daughters are never taller than their fathers,
just as sons are never shorter
than their mothers, it's the way it works.
Simple drip-stream genetics,
I tell them, when they say I'm too small.
I can't make me bigger, when
my grandmother barely scraped 5 foot
and weighed seven stone.
Seven's my lucky number, which is good
because I'm stuck with it,
because I can't make me bigger.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 12, 2007, 06:30:03 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

There are apparently people
All over the world who feel
That the number seven holds
Special significance for them.
I wonder why that is:
What is it about two humble lines
That they have such charisma?
The number isn’t even correctly written
Nowadays, as originally the upright
Had a bar across it, and there was
Another line at the base,
All important so that the number of
Angles amounted to the seven,
That gave it its name.
There is something very roundabout
About all this, as if numbers
Count themselves, without our input,
Having no need of us.
Would the number seven still exist
If there were no one to count it?
Or is there a mathematical heaven
Where numbers will live eternally
Even when there is nothing left
In the universe to be counted?
And will all numbers then be absorbed
Into the one big nought?
Questions like this are numberless,
And may have an answer somewhere,
But it's certainly not one that's
Inside in my head.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 12, 2007, 07:51:14 PM
MWC  Gyppo UK

Inside my head strange things happen.
Fragments of folk lore
meet with the modern world,
each twisting the other into
something unfamiliar.

Inside my head strange things happen.
Two plus two can become five,
or three, or something truly bizarre
'thriddly- umpty-six' or the magical
three-point-one-four-two.

Inside my head strange things happen.
Dreams become reality
and reality fades into dreams.
Tales are born and jostle for position,
some to escape and others to stay hidden.

Inside my head strange things happen.
Things which would terrify a non-writer.
But I have a safety valve, the gift of words
which keeps me sane when,
inside my head, strange things happen.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on April 12, 2007, 09:11:54 PM
Inside my head?
Perhaps.
In there it seems much larger,
too large, to be in there.
I dreamed that I was lost.
Deep in a forest of ideas,
surrounded by thoughts
that mocked my inability
to grasp their purpose.
Can infinity be contained
in such a small space;
Inside my head?
In there is out there,
doorway to eternity.
I must go in to get out,
become nothing
to become everything.
In embracing the little me
I embrace the cosmos.
Inside my head.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: chillies on April 12, 2007, 09:39:17 PM
Inside my head I am what I always wanted to be,
what I always dared to be.
Inside my head, there is no procrastinating
and no questions starting with But...
Inside my head is the real me.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 13, 2007, 06:14:59 AM
Lin - The Netherlands


Sometimes the real me
Isn't me at all
I can change into
A kind of Jeykll and Hyde
A person with no name
So who am I?
I am me without a name
Half of this person is me
The other half is her
The one who makes decisions
Does the shopping
Kisses the husband goodbye
And walks the dog each day
The other person is me
Wishing I wasnt her.
I'm floating on a dream
Being somewhere else
Listening to music
Thinking exotic thoughts
Wearing bikinis and walking
On white beaches,
Hand in hand with a man
Who is so like the one
I know so well
I play safe.
Isnt life a game anyway?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 13, 2007, 06:41:12 AM
MWC. Bubbles, Wales, UK.


I'm everyone I know, and they are me.
I'm no-one I want to be and they're not me.
Never could be.
For that I'm thankful.
Who'd want this dustbin frontal lobe
filled with Magpie hordes
of specious vapour?
And bits of things I plan to do later?
Not me, not me.
Now it's Aubades, which replaced the knitting
I found half finished,
in my attic.
Later I'll be Salsa dancing,
or chewing the cud with Tom,
who's eighty five and twinkly.
No wrinklie, he still drinks pints in the pub.
His shaky stories flooding my mind
of milk maids, canings from teachers, and the War,
long gone.
And how computers won't catch on.
All this crammed into my head, and more.
Will spurious facts make my brain fatter fodder
for the grass and worms?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 13, 2007, 09:10:40 PM
Sometimes I think am a place,
in Puerto Vallarta, loco gringo,
galloping along a trail, past the meeting place,
the Mexican friends laughing and cheering.
Later playing at Don Guerillmo
in the restaurant drinking Margueritas
while two crazy Frenchmen make music
with a green plastic pipe and a mandolin.
Waving from the balcony to Aplollonio,
riding down to the beach for tourists.
But that Christmas in Yelapa,
we were dismayed at drunken American friends
who swaggered into the village mass.
The tall dignified senor with a patched knee
quietly stood and left the church
and I asked the mad revelers to follow on out.
On the next day after Christmas, the priest
crossed the bay and we had mass.
Our friend Berta, who shared her home,
thanked us for coming to church that day.
Truth to say, it is easy enough
to go to church on Christmas day
with unglazed windows open to jungle.
Never in the North have I seen such glass.
Later the drunken people reveled on the beach
in black plastic bags shaking sparklers
so that I could love their jolity again.
After all I am the same wild boy
who jumped out of college dorm windows
laughing and waving to people on the ground.
In the prairies I always feel my Indian blood
wanting to go running after thundering buffalo
or creeping out through the long grass
just to see what bird is nesting there.
In the mountains I am a colder being,
climbing up mountain goat trails,
turning back to see where we have been.
In France I am my wife's husband
as we sit on church steps up above
the all too rich golden coast.
Later in the pleasant garden
talk goes on among the many dishes.
Here the family outlives the whims of change;
someday we must all go home.
She to her village in the hills,
I to my redbrick house on the Chisholm trail.
Always there is something in us
of the places we inhabit.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on April 14, 2007, 06:03:20 AM
Bubbles. MWC. Wales, UK.

'You can take the girl out of the valleys,
but never the valleys out of the girl.'
Flimsy from wear, this cliched phrase
still does the rounds.
Endlessly altered to 'Manchester,'
'The Sticks,' or 'London Town.'
Employed when labels are needed
by those who feel safer,
boxing people in.
Cliche weeds, fast spreading, unwanted,
their tortuous milky roots are facts,
not fiction.
The irritant grain within the lustrous pearl
swallowed by the maw of clam
still is but sand under candescent layers.
One jewelled chance, a million more
to lay beneath the feet of Amphitrite,
unknown, unhindered.
Flimsy cloaks of geography and chance
donned for the journey, shed at last
leaving the core of us polished or
cracked,
but still a grain of sand.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on April 14, 2007, 06:07:33 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA

A rain of pearl from pollen winds
dusts the hot black shine upon the Ford
and competes with the gossamer
upon my tow-heads, bounding on new grass.

While you cast a whizzing line,
miles to the west,
your shaded eyes beseeching
a flashing prize from Poseidon.

I may rest here and contemplate,
or jump and join the 'crack-the-whip'
c'mon, Mom, come, we need one more
and breathe the delicate moment's fragile gift.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 14, 2007, 06:25:30 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Once there was a world that contained
Rare and treasured moments
When a grown-up would give
In a mute, smiling act of kindness,
A penny or a thrupenny bit,
Letting fall into a child’s hand
The small change from a packet of
Woodbines, or the Irish Press,
As if it were nothing,
To be gazed at in awe by one
To whom it meant much:
As sometime recipient, how well
I remember such moments.

But now that I’m the one who can
Afford to bestow these gifts,
The world has moved on;
Such gestures are no longer always
Welcome, but can bring suspicion
And fear. How sad it is that I cannot
Repay the kindness of those
Who trod the way before me, by
Carrying on the good deeds that
Warmed many a young heart.
In this new order of things
Children are not the only victims:
I, too, have been wronged.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 16, 2007, 06:02:28 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

To post or not to post, that is the question.
Whether tis nobler for the poet to suffer
The troughs and hollows of the Longest Poem
Or to take words against a sea of silence
And by her posting end it? To write: to post;
No more and by a word to say we end
The deadly quiet of non-posters
That the thread is heir to, ‘tis a composition
Devoutly to be wished; to write; to post;
To post, perchance to spoil; ay, there’s the nub,
For in that post at length what thoughts may come
When we have rattled off this mortal poem,
Must give us cause; there’s the haste
That makes calamity of so long poem,
Amid the poet's last, despairing cry of
Please, please, let me not be the only one.
 

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 16, 2007, 07:15:17 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

The Longest Poem,
like the Longest Road
cannot be travelled in haste.

This electronic medium
measured in nano-seconds,
cannot accelerate my brain.

In three line verse
I search for speed,
but it's not there.

Soon I'll sleep
but first I end
this verse

With three
terse
lines.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Johnorman on April 16, 2007, 07:27:38 PM
The Only One

He heard it strike each trunk in turn,
losing clarity with each bounce until finally,
Let me not be the only one faded
to  Only one then Nowt like they said
in Liverpool, when he was a scouser long ago.
Now he was a scouser a long way from the Pool,
where the breed is seldom seen. In fact,
he wonders if perhaps he is the only one, fading
to become nowt in a forest where memories
bounce into nothingness and need be sent again,
reminding the sender he at least is still there,
whatever the reason originally intended;perhaps,
will be there forever, calling out to nowt, seeking
recognition from someone or thing that knows
him not, never will. He has love-life with each
surrounding tree, felt every curve, smooth
hollowed trunk, touched their trembling leaves.
Perhaps that is all was ever intended -the
only one from Liverpool at home somewhere else.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: caliban1 on April 17, 2007, 12:07:15 AM
Wandering here in a forest of imagination,
we can by mysterious happenstance trail
into a real forest inhabited by unreal characters,
such as the mad mechanic with his crock pot
of chicken simmering in the shop,
while we walk across wet spring fields
carrying three cans of Alberta Draft
to wild haired Cameron Einstein who lives above.
Since I am out to pick Trillium in the woods
for my lady love. We all go tramping out
through swamp and blackberry brambles
onto the horse trail hacked out with machetes,
taking us by birch and fir, cedar, hemlock and plentiful alder.
On the forest floor green curled ferns turn up,
and small purple monkshood begins to unfold.
As the mad mechanic said it is a whole different world
and I am wondering why these two bizarre friends
and a shy twenty year old French girl are all
who come out here in the woods to pick flowers.
It makes no more sense than the rhythm of moods,
with a grim and self murdering darkness in the early morning
becoming a dizzy dancing joy with the sentients of afternoon.
In all of this there is no pattern of discernable meaning,
but we are carrying on forward with the hope of all eternity.
Remembering always that it is better to laugh with the cosmos
than to lie wailing in sorrow in the darkness of the glen.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on April 18, 2007, 02:42:23 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA

One humid evening years ago,
we stole into the sigh of darkness,
hand in hand, past the bedtime.
On an itchy blanket,
we laid against the plaid,
and lost our sight to fathoms
of stars, pinning us to the earth.
We felt the rush of aeons
diminish our id. We spun
beneath the cold cold void.
I felt your tremor.
When I asked why, you whispered
your secret fear-
of gravity releasing you,
off the orb into the night.
Last night I lifted groceries
and, passing to my door,
I tried but could not resist
the pull- I turned my gaze
to the yawning heavens,
shot with cold fire.
I see you there, my sister
upon the velvet canvas
falling forever into
eternity.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 19, 2007, 02:01:27 AM
Lin - EXPERIENCES IN HOLLAND

I miss my hills and mountain sides
The land  in which I live works perfectly
In Harmony with tulips, dijkes
And greenest grass.
A canvas of Rembrant,
Vincent and Franz Hals,
A place of numerous museums,
Tall ships and fishing boats.

But, there is something comforting
About hills. They fold around you
Like Grandma used to do
On a Sunday afternoon visit.
They kiss you when you reach
The top of Great Gable
And Blencathra when you follow
In the wake of Wainwright's footsteps

I cannot stand above a town
Looking down to coastline from above
I cannot sit and ponder by a tarn,
My comfort zone has been flattened
Engineered by years of building dijkes
Men wearing clogs and dressing their
Windmills toward the cold North Sea
Im coming home soon to see it all again
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 21, 2007, 03:21:58 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

I feel a little lost today,
As if my mind were away somewhere
Wandering in a unfamiliar forest
With no comforting landmarks
To guide me safely home.
I suppose we all get days like this
When we are strangers even to ourselves,
And the world is full of goblins and witches
And dragons in caves.
It is the mythical uncertainty that underlies
The apparent reality of our normal hours,
The realisation that perhaps 
All may not be as it seems,
But suddenly the shadows on the wall
Cast by the leaping flames
Seem to hold a message for me
Of a strange time to come.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 22, 2007, 09:53:32 AM
Lin - more from North Holland, The Netherlands


A strange time indeed
Is Sunday afternoon,
Lazy Sunday? Oh no!
A day of garden centres,
New plants
And gardening projects.


All is not as it seems,
Holland has come alive
With coloured stripes.
Farmers stand alone
In fields
That were once green

We all get days like these,
Germans stop by the road
Taking photos of tulips.
They are amazed.
Coloured stripes
Instead of cauliflowers and wheat





Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 24, 2007, 07:00:15 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Whole days like these
Pass as if unnoticed,
Unwritten and unmarked
By strange or cataclysmic events,
Days of contentment or endurance
But not especially joyful or sad.
They have been full of hours
That have each been full of separate moments,
Each one lived consciously but not recalled.
Only the births and deaths
And holidays and tragedies
Are recorded in labelled mental files.
Whole days pass as if unnoticed,
Yet it has not really been so.
Each moment has left its signature
In a cell somewhere,
And in the growing grass
And the constantly changing sky.
If we could interpret the message it has left us
We could read the history and the meaning
Of our lives.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: wildlegends on April 25, 2007, 09:24:06 AM
MWC:wildlegends:UK

I was born to live and live I must
’Till eons of time turn body to dust.
To live is to suffer, to relish a death
And pray to the gods that you draw your last breath.
To live is to suffer, pay pleasure with pain
And curse all the fools who claim to be sane.
Then turn in the evening and look to the west
And feel your heart aching for death in your breast;
Then wake in the morning and gaze to the east
And see ’gainst the sun the dread of the beast.
Image of black on bloodied field,
Image of torment that never can yield
While echoing, ancient screams unfold,
Lost tales of dread and horror untold
Save when in darkness they’re portrayed
In dreams of love long since betrayed.   
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: paramour on April 25, 2007, 04:56:12 PM
MWC: paramour:USA

Tulip Time in Michigan -
what a time to be alive!
The temperatures are warming up,
and the skies are blue and clear.

The crocus push their pointy heads
out of the frozen earth,
unfurling their purple and yellow coats
the most colourful around!

Next to rise are the Narcissus -
Daffodils the common name.
Buttery, bright and pink these days -
not just yellow anymore.

Finally the tulips reign
the royalty of the season.
Every colour of the rainbow seen,
the cooler temperatures work their magic.

Reds as deep as the richest blood,
Whites and creams and blues.
Blushes of pink, violet and green,
flames of orange, and black as night.

So, curse if you will the winter days
when the snow and bitter winds blow;
If not for this lull and rest for the bulbs,
they simply would not bloom.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on April 25, 2007, 07:05:44 PM
MWC:  Gyppo  UK

So curse if you will the cold Winter days,
when the waggon ruts are frozen like iron,
and you have to break ice to water your horse
and long before dawn you're all woken
by the muskero (the copper)
with a sheet in his hand,
full of words,
but you don't have the readin'.
So he spells it all out, and it's time to move on
because some nervous gauje's been bleatin'.

So you harness the horse then struggle
to break the cold iron rims from the mud,
and your shoulders are raw
as you heave at the waggon,
and the kids are all wailin' and weepin'.
And the muskero looks on,
sixteen stone of hard brawn,
well fed and well rested
but not interested
in muddying his hands on the wheel.

But later that year you awake before dawn,
just turned three am, it's already too warm,
It's barely three hours since you went to bed
with the music and tales still filling your head.
You forget the cold winters,
the starve belly time,
it's Appleby Fair, the whole tribe is here,
with horses to sell and chop tacho.
With boxing an' courting and straight dealin' too
it's a time to be thankful for livin'.

Gyppo

(Glossary:  Gauje = Non-Gypsy
                   Chop  =  Swap
                   Tacho = True/Honest
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: chillies on April 26, 2007, 04:05:47 AM
MWC:  chillies UK

Living, is that what you call it?
More like existing.
One day fades into another.
Weeks turn into months,
and then into years.
I still remain in the same state,
not progressing - not moving on.
I am a statue:
I see the world, I grow old with time,
but I am unable to connect.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: paramour on April 26, 2007, 01:54:49 PM
MWC: paramour:USA

I woke up this morning
and looked into the mirror.
I saw a woman
where a girl should be.

Though the hair is grayer
and the lines are deeper,
the smile is more vibrant
and shines through the eyes.

The smile has gained
sentinels at the corners,
to guard against the blues.
Hope springs eternal.

I am alive.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Johnorman on April 27, 2007, 12:40:15 AM
Good Lord!
I am still alive.
Impossible I'm . . . mumble, mumble.
With me teeth out.
Kids almost as aged as me.
Looking even older.
Sick of asking how I am.
If my life insurance is paid up.
How much more to pay.
On the house.
Seldom do I tell the truth.
Preferring devilish satisfaction.
Such as keeping them guessing.
Unaware I'm just ahead of.
Bankruptcy.
Penury.
Senility.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on April 29, 2007, 07:39:49 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Today I feel bankrupt of ideas, poor in
Desire to write down my life.
Perhaps it’s a form of senility that makes
Everything around me look the same
As it did yesterday, and the day
Before that. The question is,
Should I write, no matter that what I write
Might not amount to anything much?
Should the act of writing something, anything
Down, be a simple one of defiance
Undertaken in the face of mundanity?
Who says that only the perfect piece
Has the right to be called poetry? Surely
The recording of a world that is imperfect
Would be better done through a poem
That is itself imperfect? Would the words then
Not more truly reflect it back to itself?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: nassj on April 30, 2007, 03:20:36 AM
MWC:Candy:Scotland

It's three weeks since my fingers danced,
put words to screen, my mind in trance.
Now they have a differant chore,
that crackes my skin, dry and sore.
A saviour, I know, is on the way,
my hands will dance again some day.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on April 30, 2007, 10:07:24 AM
MWC Lin - The Netherlands


Its been a long time since I danced
The Twist or Mashed Potato,
My father taught me how to waltz
And on his toes I used to stand
Kneehigh, looking up at the belt
On his grey trousers, and the zip
That hid a secret only Mummy knew.

His old brown shoes and my little feet
Would slide around the floor
Falling over each other in clumsy steps
Forward, side, together, repeat and...
One, two, three.  We laughed
At how I would never make a dancer
If I didnt stand up straight.

I grew up remembering how to Waltz
I never forgot the days I stood
On my father shoes, pretending to dance.
The days of Rock and Roll and Johan Strauss
Were somehow intermingled in time.
Many years have passed and I reckon
Just maybe, I could do it all again.



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: paramour on May 01, 2007, 01:03:52 PM
MWC: paramour:USA

Sunlight dancing on the waves of the lake,
I see a glimmer of life all around.
The snow is gone and the flowers are up!
Winter's death is the birth of spring!

Seagulls cry for joy in the air
while the waves murmur their lullaby,
and kites dance among the clouds.
My shoes are filled with sand.

How fast the seasons turn about;
back and forth they flip through time.
I feel the silky smoothness of time
is an endless dance with God.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on May 01, 2007, 04:09:22 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA

I close my lids, soon lost,
hid in the silken wheat-
washed in the strands of purity
she unknowing shares.
Upon the narrow wooden bed,
I insinuate myself,
my common, clumsy, adult self,
beside the sleeping pixie.
Let me absorb some innocence-
some overspill of paradise,
to calm a mother's fear.
Let her drift on, in slumber
never feel this watery salt,
I drop upon her cheek.
Shh, shh, I murmer, it's okay...
to Mother and to Daughter.
These days of monetary want,
of stomach-clenching anxiousness,
will also pass.
Just as the transient down
upon her silken cheek-
wearing a mother's tear,
a tiny diadem.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on May 04, 2007, 04:53:09 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

You would think a mother would know her son:
The day is bright and and saucy with surprise.
And I am looking at everything in a new way.
You imagine that you know your son,
Know him well, the way he thinks and feels,
And what might be on his mind: Money
And getting on in life; next year's wedding bells;
Going for a few jars with some old friends;
Maybe a holiday somewhere in Spain;
And making plans, just the normal run of things.
You think you know him well and then you find
That he has a secret side: Behind closed doors
Away from prying eyes, he has been following you
In writing down his life.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on May 04, 2007, 06:28:44 AM
MWC Lin The Netherlands

How to be proactive Ive tried to teach my son
Think ahead, work very smart and listen to your Mum
But no matter how I try his mind is somewhere else
Proactiveness does not compute, it leaves an awful mess.
Last minute is the daily theme"Ive lost my keys again"
"Well that isn't my fault darling son, Im not the one to blame"
"My travel pass got stolen, but I've found it in my pocket
I didnt shave, the foam ran out, Im late for work, oh! focket!"
With face in hands I quite despair and wonder how to teach
Proactiveness, its too late- for now his life's a beach!


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on May 06, 2007, 04:56:51 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

A dark day feels like despair,
Coming after so many that were bright:
It somehow seems darker
Than dark days we’ve known before.
We’ve grown used to the light and must
Now adjust ourselves to darkness
Once more.
We do it every year, but gradually,
Growing through autumn into winter,
Losing a little light with each passing minute,
So that we hardly notice the loss.
But to waken this morning to an overcast sky
After weeks of sunshine
Seems somehow alarming,
Almost like a warning
Of further darkness to come:
The cataclysmic darkness that lies
In wait for us all.
But now momentarily the day has cleared again,
And despair seems like an exaggeration
Of dark thoughts against the brightening sky.





Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: paramour on May 06, 2007, 12:29:13 PM
MWC: paramour:USA

Orange red and yellow bird
in a bright blue sky
of fluttering cloth gliding
attached to a smiling child.

Strings laced in little fingers
played like Latin guitars,
are the only connection
from our earth to God's heaven.

Laughing children squeal delight
the brilliant bird comes crashing down!
Sandy shoes run for dear life,
lifting the kite to touch the sun!

Again the rainbow eagle soars!
So high it seems alive.
The breaking string it's freedom brings
at the cost of a child's tears...

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on May 14, 2007, 02:23:17 AM
MWC: Leigh, USA


I saw an eagle in the zoo, a Bald Eagle,
'Haliaeetus leucocephalus'
the wooden sign proclaimed.
Atop a deadend tree, stripped of its bark,
a huge brown mass of feathered strength,
topped by the distinctive snow.
I marveled at the nest, of heavy branches,
huge, and intricate, secure upon that reach.
We watched from down below, his amber eye
frowned upon us, deadly beak a hook.
And far above, the open sky was cyan,
not a cloud, and we could see the birds
the starlings and the robins, wheeling free,
above the metal mesh that yawned between.
I was only ten, but I remember
the sign that said the eagle's outspread wing
could reach seventy-five, to eighty inches.
I still can see that dome that came between.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on May 14, 2007, 03:38:42 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Sometimes something comes               
Between me and my attempts
To write. It's not that I can’t think
Of anything to put down; far from it,
My mind teems with all kinds
Of possibilities, but somehow they don’t
Translate to the page the way
I would like. Oh, they leap out vivid
And bright enough, but then they flop
Down lifelessly, as if they needed
My passion to keep them going. It’s a bit
Of a mystery to me why some ideas
Travel around the world by themselves
In what amounts to perpetual motion,
While others just lie there, inanimate
Bundles of letters without a soul
To energise them. Hey, speaking of souls,
Do you suppose that God ever suffers
From writer’s block?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on May 14, 2007, 03:57:16 AM
MWC:Saturnine:UK

You know, I was talking to God the other day
She said, "Hey kid, don't sweat it, you worry too much.
I like you, I've always liked you.
I wouldn't have made you this way if it wasn't what I wanted."
I'm thinking, "What about all the murderers and axe-rapists and stuff?"
but don't say it aloud.  Doesn't do to diss the almighty after all...
Still she says, "Don't worry, I know the end:
It all works out.  Trust me.
And when it comes to writing,
remember what I told Kaylin Haught: 'Yes, yes, yes' "
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on May 14, 2007, 04:24:57 AM
Lin - The Netherlands

Oh yes - Holidays, it's that time  again.
Beach shoes only worn three times a year
Are lost at  the bottom of the wardrobe.
"I dont remember wearing that!" I say.
Its cold in the UK,
I take every conceivable garb to cover all weathers.
Three suitcases, Nordic walking sticks and heavy boots.
Im going over the sea to T-Eilean Sgitheanach,
That's Skye to you the Sassenach.
To Sleat and Broadford Bay sailing the Lochs.
If I had my total freedom I would spend
Every day writing about Scotland and the Western Isles
Breathtaking views of the Cullins call me back,
Roll on Thursday!

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Melita on May 15, 2007, 06:10:09 AM
Off Scotland's West coast is a whirlpool,
the world's third largest, the Corrievreckan.
It has another name, too, they tell me.
But we won't scare you with it.
I wonder what could scare me more than a 700-
foot hole in the ocean, surging grey water
swelling against Jura's radius.

The boat seats six, just, and two terriers.
Sue chain-smokes in her tight life-jacket,
her husband at the helm, mock sou'-wester cocked
while the reluctant artist sucks down her nausea.
We at the back, twenty years between us,
both with childish red grins and plastic cups
of Cava, our faces in the spray.
She yells over the engine How does it feel
to be a mile from the Gateway to Hell?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on May 20, 2007, 04:40:53 PM
Last night as hot
as Hell
too much
for an Autumn night
I lay tossing
sleepless in
the still darkness
until you came
down our street
at eleven-thirty-three
P.M.

You drunken lout
banging gates
playing footy with
the beer cans
left ready for
the rubbish man
in the morning

Boy were you noisy
just you on your own
thrown out when
the isobars closed
running down the gradient
of barometric pressure
to hurl yourself against
the walls of my castle

But

I closed the windows
pretending
you weren't there
and lay tossing
in the darkness
listening to
your cacophonous brawl
as you vent your spleen
for all to hear

To whom can one report
a Nor'west gale?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: paramour on May 21, 2007, 01:59:01 PM
May time warmth
a fickle darling this season,
as cold comes to kiss
the ground we walk on.

A warning of frost -
No advisory this!
If only a snow
could be so quitely bold.

Run! Little posies! Run!
as fast as your little
green legs can carry you!
I won't tell your secret!

Hide in the garage under the car!
It is safer there than under the stars,
their sparkling eyes
can find you in the darkness.

The sun will chase them away come morning;
the only witness to their cruelty
are the frozen tears
glittering on your purple faces.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Melita on May 25, 2007, 08:29:57 AM
I imagine he is purple-faced,
a Dickensian father-figure
evil stepmother on hand
to kick you out.

How could you deny something
so fundamental to you?
Your ability to love, regardless
of who, is something he can't know now.
Because he can't fathom that you,
his son, could share a bed
with another man
and be happy.

Why not tell him you're in love
with something, everything, the moment,
the moon. See how his face shrinks;
he can't fathom your ability to love.
But we can.
So put on the neon, it's only here once:
you're eighteen, baby, and it's time to
dance the night away.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on May 25, 2007, 11:34:03 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

It looks as if the Fianna Failers will be
Dancing again tonight. The first counts are in.
Despite all the problems with the country’s health,
Soaring gang crime, broken-down schools and classes
Too large for learning, as well as revelations
Of corruption in the highest places, even unanswered
Questions by the Taoiseach about money given
Furtively, these people have probably been returned
With an increased majority. How can this be?
There must be something wrong with a so-called
Democratic society that allows this to happen. They say
That a people gets the government it deserves, and so
We must deserve this. Why worry about crime when
It so obviously pays? Besides, it’s useful to have someone
Up there with easy morals, who is amenable
To a brown envelope slipped casually into a pocket the way
A note might be into a Confirmation child’s hand, followed
By a quiet word in the ear. Why worry about the health service,
Folks lying everywhere on trollies in public hospitals, for lack of
Beds, when you can subsidise the building of private A&Es? 
And as for a pension, well, a few years gossiping in the Dail
Will see to that. Best of all, why worry about education?
Look where you have got without it, to the highest
Offices in the land. Better not to overburden the poor
And underprivileged with too much learning, or teach them
How to think, or they might wonder how people like you
Got to lord it over them in your state-driven cars. Better
Not to teach them about the principles of good government,
In case they might get ideas above their station and begin
To think they might be able to make a difference
To society. They will be far happier spending study time
Filling supermarket shelves for undiscerning consumers,
Who imagine that bright packets equate to wonderful lives,
Even if there is nothing useful inside. So, isn’t it great,
No gunfire rattling on the streets of Dublin tonight? Only 
The mute acceptance that democracy has worked once more.
Why bother with messy dictatorships, when the people are
Only too happy to imprison themselves?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on May 27, 2007, 08:46:55 PM
MWC Bubbles. Wales, UK


Walnut shackles to hide amongst,
Lay down inside the flaky core
Make a prison
soft or hard.
Who has the nutcracker?
I'm safe here, safe here,
safe.
No worm am I.
I soar against the sky, peacock feathers falling
to dip and drip with green,
crashing to a shuddered halt.
Dashing turquoise against the knuckled hand
which grips the bars of iron eyes.
Ascending through the empty sky
I die in sprays of salted tears
each day
to rise again,
to fly again,
and lay my breast with quiet raging
breathlessness
upon the stones of home.




Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on May 31, 2007, 03:58:32 PM
MWC: Leigh, USA

Narrow gravel glitters, you
step cautious,
look neither right nor left,
and never,
ever, look down,
look d
        o
          w
            n,
earth falls away........ away,
on either hand,
shrinking to a vista
in green miniature.
Sheer,
the wind's shear, too-
will woo your senses,
grab equilibrium
and dance the twist.

You should not be at level with the eagle.
It is not right, to catch the amber eye.
Your voice, a comedy,
a shrinking cry,
consumed at once
by voracious gale.
He does not hear-
your plea, you must go back,
        to sanity,
            can go no further,
                here.

It hurts to have the heavens in your eyes.

Hollow cyan settles in your soul, now-
refuge far behind,
or far before.
point of no return
upon the dam,
a mite upon the
giant concrete
shoulder.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on June 02, 2007, 10:20:38 PM
MWC: fordy: NZ

... to shoulder
we sat outside
a café in Akaroa
warm in the low-sky-sun
twenty years to the day
since we embraced
these shores
expectant, as the gulls
watching from the pier.

A far cry
from an Anglo new-town's
concrete sharpness
to a green hilled harbour
with Gallic sounds;
Rue Jolie
is where we walked today
to sit outside
a café in Akaroa.

A child ran
dad in hand
across the foreshore
laughing for his mother
and I wondered at
the dreams we chased
that brought us to this place
to sit outside
a café in Akaroa

Globe of time
burst by pinprick light
reflections on the water
make me wonder
will we remember
the first of June,
the winter sun,
the day we sat outside
a café in Akaroa?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on June 03, 2007, 04:50:57 AM
MWC.  Bubbles, UK.


Torn from you that first of June
I trod an alien shoreline.
Flint, dying pink,
ashes of roses and grey.
Ragged glints and scraggy, rasping
answers.                                       
Soles and soul trudging alone,
spectres in the howling gale.
Loud, the empty wind replied,
soft inside the burrows lay
the leverets, the newborn mice,
and I,
with upturned face embraced once more
Northern Winds and the empty sky.
 

The navy ocean ever flows in bothering rolls, 
South and West,
Sunday best doilies held aloft upon their crests.
Onwards past the tumbled house now engulfed with thorny vice
by red barbed, healing bramble.
Rough hewn walls still cradle
a fireplace long gone cold.
Where are the words, both soft and sharp, spoken at that hearth,
the meaty stews, the rising golden loaves,
baked within that oven?
The lovers looks and brand new lives,
I turn my eyes
skywards
to search them.
 
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on June 09, 2007, 04:46:57 PM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

I turn my eyes skywards to search for them,
those dreams of a lifetime ago.
When we lay side-by-side on the springy grass
looking into the endless blue skies
of childhood.

When everything was simple
and all things seemed possible.
The days before Life came crashing in
like a runaway train,
sweeping us apart.

The days when we climbed and ran,
fished and semi-swam,
went courting Lasses
and sometimes fell out
over the most petty of things.

Different callings eased us apart,
a different woman stole each heart,
and though we rarely saw each other
we still were friends,
we thought forever.

But now Old Friend you're gone forever
escaping from a pain you couldn't share.
But perhaps, on that hilltop, you gazed at the sky
and, once again all was simple,
and nothing seemed possible.

Gyppo
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on June 20, 2007, 05:38:07 AM
Lin The Netherlands
 


A long time ago I look toward the sky
I sailed a cargo ship across oceans
When nothing had seemed possible to me
I thought about the waves and the clouds
I chased dolphins through royal blue waters.
The call of the Tern and the Red Tail Tropic Bird,
The rising and spouting whale, all seemed surreal.

As a child I wished I could travel
I longed to leave my home and see life
On the other side of the world.
I told myself nothing is impossible
How? Where? When? all daunting words
In a dancing world of work and boyfriends
At Twenty one I made an important phone call

"Can you help me?  I want to see the world"
"Of course you can, hop on board"
And a whole new life came to me
Singapore, Japan, Africa and The World
Of Nature. A happy world where life
Is carefree and absolutely breathtaking
I yelled out" Yes, they need me to take care of it"

I sailed my ship across the blue waters
I experienced the storms and hurricanes
And then with time I noticed a quietness
The flying fish had lost their will to fly
The whales had spouted no more
The birds seemed less and nature was dying
Why had the whales gone?

Conservation was a hippy word. no-one, it seemed
Except David Attenborough cared.
It was something we watched on TV
The Adventures of Hans and Lottie Haas
I stopped eating Danish Bacon
I campaigned wherever I could
Then I found others who were like minded
And we joined forces, together we stood ground

 
The only thing that keeps us alive
Nature! Without it we cannot survive
We rely so much on each other
But we are in denial of the only
Important survival strategy in the world
The birds and the bees and the flowers
The snails, the amoeba you cannot see.

Forget the fighting amongst each other
YOU ARE MISSING THE POINT!!
The reason you survive is
The food chain that surrounds you
The daylight and night time
The sun and the moon
And all things natural.

Ill be dead soon, well in about thirty years
What do I care for the future?
Nothing really, but I do I suppose.
Its a longing to keep this beautiful
World of animals and plants alive
For the sake of my children and I suspect
At heart, so does everyone else.

So why is it that Salman Rushdie
Is so important today? The Queen
Has no right to hold an embassy party
For her birthday? And Iraq is still killing
The already dead feelings of her people
Stop you raging mulitiudes and think
Help me to help you survive the fight for nature.

Without it you are dead too.






Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on June 22, 2007, 05:44:29 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Another small death ended this morning when
My daughter popped up briefly to say hello,
While I was on gmail; she was on her way
To a training day, of filming, in that city
Across the water. The orange square made
A gentle glow, like her real presence, and the smiley
Emoticon brought her curved lips to my mind.
I thought: How lucky I am.

I thought of stories I've heard of other days,
And of American wakes, as they were called:
Where whole families gathered together
To say goodbye to loved ones who were
Travelling to far countries, to go into service
In big houses, or turn hands more used to feeding
Chickens to strange tasks in factories across the sea.

How hard it must have been for mothers
On such dread evenings; the low roof, with tall cousins
Stooping to enter; the muted undertones; the family’s
Suddenly filling eyes. Already in these last days
The mother would have been scooping up
Last pictures of her daughter smiling at a brother’s
Teasing, or with her head bent over a local newspaper,
Hair richly brown in the lamplight; or of her
Simply drawn childlike face wondrous with sleep.

And now the inevitable moment has come
As once it came before, when at the end
Of nine long months of wondering she first
Glimpsed her daughter. Now it’s time to say
Goodbye, in a moment that must be borne, and yet
All the spirit cries out against this final tearing away
Of the cord. Later, longed-for letters or unaccountable
Silences will fill the gap between them.
But that was long ago. For me there is no such gap:
How lucky I am.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on June 24, 2007, 08:39:23 PM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

How lucky I am to have this simple gift ,
this knack of arranging twenty six letters
in patterns which make people think,
and often smile.

I work at it as all good tradesmen do
but the basic patterns come from
some inner place I can't deny,
as if I would.

I can shape and direct, even dissect,
and when in doubt I'll shut the world out
and hide behind pen or keyboard,
'til I'm strong again.

I watch, I listen, I sniff the air, and
fill the pool where dreams are dreamed
and words spill like a waterfall,
which can't be stemmed.

I tell my tales and weave my web,
I'm passing through and cannot stay,
but I still find time to smile and think,
"How lucky I am."

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on June 25, 2007, 03:20:52 AM
Saturnine: MWC: UK

he's just passing through...
(this morning I rediscovered the remnants of his last project)
he cannot stay
(a reel, some stolen photos, a storyboard in rough plastic casing)
does he watch and listen?
(my brother said, 'take these, he'd want you to have them')
shape and direct?
(inhale, relax- and think: how lucky I am)
that's what he would have wanted.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on June 25, 2007, 04:58:13 AM
Lin - The Netherlands


I want to be buried underneath Cloud 9
Ive lived under it all my life
And in death nothing much will change
Only me, cold in the ground, no sound,
Just me and Cloud 9
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Terrasque on June 27, 2007, 03:56:08 PM
It is only human to want what you don't need,
And to need whatever it is you'd rather not have,
Wouldn't care to have, or have forgotten entirely.
Sometimes it's what you shouldn't have,
But wanting controls when you listen to your heart.
Situations arise, leaving you vulnerable.
It is only human, to protect yourself....
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on June 29, 2007, 10:56:01 PM
Some weeks fall ...
like a rumble of rocks
cascading over the coast road
up Waipapa way.

You can get stuck for days
in a fall like that
waiting on a belching
yellow bulldozer
a road gang
and six supervisors
to shift
half a mountain into the sea.

Ferry left Picton yesterday
missed the boat
so what's the rush
may as well sit it out
bed in the cab and
some gen Y bozo on FM
bored to tears.

This week's like that
rocks everywhere
writing buried
like a road to a boat
that has long sailed
stuck in a truck of tedium
bored to tears
playing with the words
waiting for the block to shift
the writing road to clear
kick her up a gear
word
sentence
paragraph
chapter
hum of the engine
on the winding writing road.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on June 30, 2007, 05:29:49 AM
It's a 'clear as a bell' day:
mountains sharp
on blue washed sky
not like yesterday
when murky rain
drizzled outside our door
while we hid by the fire.
Yesterday, today
each side of average
(whatever that is)
and on the 'up' side
we went to the library
you on your bike
your yellow dazzler
(like the sun)
and the old man stopped
to admire
and saw it there
on the handlebar -
long time since I seen
a bell on a bike

but your youthful confusion
didn't understand
that bells were mandatory
in his day:
a warning bell
to clear the way
that's why it's
a 'clear as a bell' day.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: SianLane on July 05, 2007, 02:44:43 AM
MCW:SianLane:USA

If you listen, pay it close ear - well.
If the words could penetrate that stubborn stain,
the truth then,
our day had been,
not one as clear as a bell,
but something other. Less seemly,
my dear.

Polite in repost, the gathering heard.
And not the thunder that hamered my brain,
loud enough inside,
to rattle my teeth, yet soft,
oh yes, wiley, underhanded,
but clanging, clanging 'take me in your arms'
my dear.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on July 05, 2007, 05:21:30 AM
Lin - The Netherlands



Take me in your arms said
The Old Man of the Forest
You have destroyed my home
Planted unwanted trees
And killed my mother.
My arm is gammy because
You tied me up

Take me in your arms
Love me and care for me
I did nothing wrong
Your human ways are
Killing my soul to the end
Of extinction. Save me
Please save me.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on July 05, 2007, 05:36:23 AM
MWC:Allie:Ireland

She liked to save things for a rainy day:
Gifts that she had been given, linen
Tablecloths, sets of gold-rimmed china,
She put them all away
Towards some golden future time.
There were off-cuts strewn across
The purple carpet's rich pile,
So no one would walk on it and spoil
Its newness. Even the cream three-piece
Suite she covered with cellophane,
And sat admiring it from her hard kitchen chair.
It rained on the day of her funeral.
The offcuts were removed so no one would trip
Over them. The relatives sat around on the sofa,
And chairs, enjoying the strange feel
Of their uncrackling softness, and the china
Sat on the mahogany table, its gold rims gleaming
In what seemed like an ironic grin
As it caught the chandelier's knowing light. 
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on July 06, 2007, 03:21:17 AM
Veronica on holiday in Holland (LIn's Mum) Celeb. TV Actress. Non member aged 85

I would love to have light
So that I can see
Tears are coming but there is nothing
But flashes of brightness.
To be able to read
Would dispel my fears.
To feel something
And to smell gives hope
Knowing who is near,
But nothing will bring back
What is lost


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on July 08, 2007, 09:33:39 AM
MWC:writersart:USA

Who is near
Enough to read these words
Is more than yesterday,
Closer they are to
Seeing this attempt
To flash some light
Upon my life and words.
What is it worth
To invite you
Into my universe?
Welcome,
All who read,
Who curse or cheer,
Who add their thoughts
And send this poem flying
Into the future.
The circle grows in
Ever widening ripples.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: SianLane on July 08, 2007, 06:08:17 PM
MCW: Sian Lane: USA

This poem, perchance, whose circle grows -may
at last, deliver me some wild portent, or perhaps a stronger verse.
A Phoenix among the wilted words of so much weary prose.
Rising, wing-ed and mighty, where many have lain down,
   abject
   superficial
glossy colored only at the outside edges of their feathers.
Plucked clean, laid bare, dying and dead.
Yet the decomposing carcasses - shed the fecund egg
from which my poetic Phoenix can swell
radiate out – and away – in concentric, widening rings of life.
Take the burden of perpetual obscurity
from aching tongues and typed out fingers,
and launch – great wings unfurled – me into notoriety.
Spiral my sad and skeletal wallet in ever increasing figures,
   of fame
   and fortune
and make this poem my litany, a mantra if you will
announce intent, manifest the wild desire to see the magic words
that this poem, this very verse – at last – might deliver me.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on July 09, 2007, 08:18:15 AM
Bubbles.  MWC. Wales, UK.

Our poetry and verse
bind us, and
because we are the same,
at the end of all this, we'll meld together.
Particles of my particles will be whisked with yours,
and baked in the last searing sunset.
Earth biscuit, the last in the barrel.
And nuances of your nuances
will make up my make-up.
I'll have your smile, you'll get my freckles.
This poem will become the road we slipped down,
thumped along,
pretended we were talking on.
Great winds will lift our inconsistencies,
together with our bodies, throwing them into voids
we lovingly made and kept in reserve.
'Just in case the others come, those foreign ones.'
Shooshing silvered sobbing
of discarded words unacted on,
ideas left at styles,
prostrated, mossed,
too heavy to carry over
will be our lethargic legacy.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on July 09, 2007, 07:40:41 PM
MWC. writersart. USA

Our lethargic lives
Second handed into the forum
Of anonymous strangers.
We're distant so far yet so near
To breaking the ice of wilful discontent.
Wishes, dropped into the well,
Concentric circles ripple,
Tell of the need to charm, enfold,
Draw the poem keepers into
Orbit.  Who weeps when the
Words flail, sink, drown?
Yet we will prevail for we
Are not content to go silently
Into obscurity.
Why has rhyme become an epithet?
Willy Shakespeare wrote charmingly, trippingly in measured pairs--
Why not we?

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Leigh on July 10, 2007, 01:40:18 AM
MWC: Leigh, USA


Scattered rhyming fragments-
hapazard calico,
bits of shining mica,
shimmering mother of pearl.
Turqoise true, warm topaz,
among the common shale.
Pick at crumbling edges,
smooth a corner grim,
work and scrabble, puzzling
this variant mosaic.
Before the shapes come,
peeking
between the mortar's grip,
the artist must be trusting,
the artist must be quick.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on July 10, 2007, 03:34:23 AM
MWC Bubbles Wales, UK

Quick, quick you wordy ones
say it now, get it done
for we are always ready.
We must be always ready
to say the
goodly
badly
inbetweenly
awful
thankless
glad to be here
look what I've seen here
recounting
jousting
I'll cheer you up or
augment the tears
words.
And sometimes a Tuesday morning 'should not have been here'
can't help but spring out
from our mouths.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on July 10, 2007, 05:11:48 AM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

'Should not have been here',
don't belong in this century
or any other if the truth be told.
But I'm here despite the odds
and I'm not going away yet.
I'll paddle my own canoe,
against the current as likely as not.
Riding the dancing rapids of imagination,
through the leaping quicksilver shallows,
dodging the sharp rocks of reality
then gliding across the cool depths of serenity.
Defiantly 'mooning', waving my arse
at Shakespeare's 'outrageous fortune'.
Slipping past obstacles like a fish in water,
my casual ease hiding the scars
of the times I've grounded and nearly sunk.
I really shouldn't be here,
but I bloody well am!
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on July 10, 2007, 07:42:39 AM
It shouldn't be here!
The rain Oh! the damned rain!
Yesterday it killed my flowers
Laid a white carpet of ice on the lawn
As new fallen snow.  It's July.
Thumping on my roof, La Nina has struck.
Little sister or not she is powerful
Fighting her fiesty way
Around the blue world.
Floods and strange lightening
She speaks her mind
She is troubled
Her ferocity is temporary
Until El Nino returns
Are we prepared?


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on July 10, 2007, 05:43:46 PM
MWC  Bubbles, Wales, UK.

Be prepared, dib dib, and knock knees,
windy tents, khaki'd boys.
Girls in navy, Arcala's bosoms,
badges, campfires, mouldy village halls.
Uneven stiches on your badges
for cooking or perhaps cyling proficiency.
Bright white sparklers, jumping jacks,
combined Guy Fawkes nights with the boys.
Bakathons and sitting in circles,
blushing cheeks, talking loud.
Carols and snowflakes, marching at Easter
I wish, I wish I remembered it all.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on July 10, 2007, 06:34:42 PM
MWC. writersart. USA

I remembered last night
That I missed him.  Past tense
is wrong.  The missing goes on.
People I've never met
Leave holes in my life
When they die or fade from
View. How strange this is
To miss someone I've never touched
Although I have been touched by
A voice, a face, a performance,
An art (or even an artifice).
Fan girl am I.
Someone writes of him,
Of his grace and kindness,
Someone else who may not have known him
Just as I never knew his thoughts or hopes or wishes.
Rumors, reports, reviews of movies, gossip,
Images on dvd, words on the 'net,
The wave energy of his voice haunts
Years past his passing
For the innocent to discover,
To remind me of gain and loss,
To make me yearn once more.
I slip around the surface of his existence,
Seeing me in the mirror of my preferences.
Performers are narcissistic I've surmised.
So, too, am I.
I kneel at the altar of technology.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on July 10, 2007, 07:25:22 PM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

Performers are narcissistic, but only in public.
Strutting their stuff and feeding on audience energy.
Riding high on approval, challenge, nostalgia,
or that special pair of eyes sat three rows back.

There's always someone three rows back,
someone who understands.
An old performer or some young wanna-be
who relishes every nuance of your performance.

To some you're a mere soundtrack,
a backdrop to their drinking, eating, or courting.
And some, like psychic vampires, suck the soul
from the unguarded young performer giving his all.

Some come backstage to shake your hand,
some to ask the wanna-be questions,
some just to bask in the performer's aura
and some to make outrageous offers.

And then, suddenly, it's over.
The buzz fades and the persona collapses,
falling back inside the ordinary person,
who will carry it to the next performance
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on July 11, 2007, 06:05:41 AM
MWC  Bubbles, Wales, UK.

Perform
push out along greased walls
encumbered by your violet rope.
Perform
with angeled sleeping eyes and windy random smiles.
Perform
by rote, by examination, by gift, by luck, by life.
Perform with your beauty
and get chosen though no one mentions this.
Perform
to grab the one in thirty, for the money, for the shot.
Then perform
the circuitous onerous duty
to give another soul the chance.
To perform.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: fordy on July 14, 2007, 12:29:24 AM
Blobs of colour
dart in winter sun
yellow,  red across the green
feet run foot to ball
in breathless anticipation
of the goal.

And over all, the mountains
dressed in winter's coat
watch from afar
ancient touchline parents
beaming in the sun
well done James!
well done!
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on July 14, 2007, 03:42:09 AM
Lin - The Netherlands

A job well done, completed
Spent hours changing words,
Checking facts, making calls,
That was the easy part!
Now research. Send out the mail
Wait for rejection, anticipate
An answer. Try again.
All of God's waking hours
Are spent with typing.
Broken finger nails, no exercise
Sitting, sitting, waiting for response.
Writing is expression and kindly,
Rejection is a brick in your soul.
Try again and again
Keep the flow continuous
Enthuse yourself, lest you fall
By the wayside and never write again.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Stupot on July 19, 2007, 03:30:08 AM
MWC
Stupot
Tokyo

Try and try again.
No-one wants to wait with you.
Prob'ly for the best.

It is easier
to be lonely in this world
when you are alone.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on July 24, 2007, 12:43:13 AM
witersart, MWC: USA

Much harder to be
Alone in this world now--but
Loneliness? Easy.

It's just a game,
Only a game,
This life I lead
Here with my cats,
The television set,
Computer screen,
And the internet.
Who are you,
I wonder as well as
Who am I?
Oh, yeah, that's original.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on August 13, 2007, 09:55:40 PM
But it all comes back in a heartbeat,
Those long ago years,
The fears of being burnt from the face
Of the earth in nuclear holocaust.
We hid beneath our school desks,
Practicing for the day the bombs would fall,
As if that would protect us
From the hot hell wind's roar,
Afterwards going outdoors to recess
Dodging the ball in a childhood game,
While the politicians made annihilation threats and
Scared us half to death.
Saturdays were best at the
Cinema with popcorn in hand,
Soft drink in paper cup,
And Roy and Dale on the screen.
Trigger and Bullet, Buttermilk and
Andy Devine drew the line for us.
The cowboy shoot outs
Pulled us away from
The trembling fear of ending before we'd begun.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on August 15, 2007, 05:07:49 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Cowboy shootouts, we know all about those.
Here in Dublin’s wild west. We’re not supposed
To let on about that sort of thing, though.
The suburbs are nice clean places,
With mature trees grown from the spindly ones
Planted by residents associations
A long time ago. If we close our eyes
We can pretend that drugs and misery
Are always somewhere else. Oh, now and again
They come knocking on a neighbour’s door,
The shame and sorrow of the accidental overdose.
But once the funeral’s past we can forget,
Stop asking the meaning of the universe,
And wondering about those who dance with death.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on August 15, 2007, 08:55:18 PM
Rant dancing,
Jive talking,
I read the latest edition
Of the future
Longest poem in the English language
On my way to bed,
Lights out, now on again
To type, type, type
My addition.
I spent the hour before
Reading up on Roy Rogers
King of the Cowboys.
Oh he was of much honor;
Dale chose him because he
"Was an honest man."
Nostalgia for my lost innocence.
Time for that vaginal transplant,
Firefly fan, dvd Queen,
Lost among the stars?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on August 16, 2007, 08:09:15 AM
Gyppo MWC UK

Lost amongst the stars, my mind tumbled free
whilst my body swung loose in a hammock,
'Somewhere in England'.

A small stretch of woodland by an unmarked road
where a banked fire smouldered gently overnight,
'Somewhere in England'.

A dew-dropped petrol tank and matt black 'bars
as I lay and watched the sun rise through the trees,
'Somewhere in England'.

Blowing the ashes and adding small twigs
to make coffee and fry 'eggs 'n' bacon,
'Somewhere in England'.

Rolling the hammock and dousing the fire
then heading on out, let the gods decide where,
'Somewhere in England'.

A ring of cold ashes and a small oil stain
and a single set of tracks as a marker,
'Somewhere in England'.

It used to be so easy to leave the world behind
and wander like the wind across the downs,
'Somewhere in England'.

"There was always a 'Somewhere' to go to
and always a 'Somewhere you've been,
and there'll always be 'Somewhere in England'
and the twisty by-roads in between.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on August 16, 2007, 06:21:30 PM

writersart, MWC: USA

The twisty by-roads in between
Birth and going home
Have taken me down some dusty trails
And across swirling whirlpools.
There I have teetered and passed
Onto a foreign shore
Where I met lost souls like me.
Lost souls will choose to recognize a pilgrim stranger--
Or not.  If so,
We follow the same roads,
Share the same familiar paths
Although we've never been this way before
Or at least we don't remember.
Why do I take this comfort in knowing
You search as I do
That you have not found "The Way,"
That you do not smile with sorrow
For my journey yet to come?

The twisty by-roads in between
Birth and going home
Are filled with wonder and surprise,
Sadness and mourning,
Joy and questioning:
My eyes remain open to possibility.
Somewhere in England
Is where I might choose to be
For a part of my journey
Between birth and going home.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on August 19, 2007, 06:39:09 AM
Bubbles.  MWC.  Wales, UK.


Between birth and going home
are choices.
How many homes and which one is
the keeper
of our purpled centre?
Which one shuns our mistakes and makes
a soft breathed welcome?
Is it made of stone or flesh,
of birth
or death of trying?
Sigh and breath in the loaves, the Monday washing.
The embrocation on heaving winter chests.
The pepper ink in fountain pens, the baby in his crib, milk and powder.
Shouts and kisses
and not turning us away.
They can't, it's the place we made between
birth
and going home
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on August 19, 2007, 09:21:52 AM
Gyppo MWC UK

Sigh and breathe in the loaves,
it only lasts for a few minutes.
A few precious minutes at the start of each shift
when the smell everyone 'oohs' and 'ahs' about
floods nostrils still fresh from outside air.

Then the Baker's nose takes over as you change.
From Biker to Baker is only one letter,
but the worlds are far apart, so far apart.
Changing waterproofs for an open shirt and apron,
and helmet for a hairnet, if the public are about.

Your nose picks up clues as you check the order sheet.
Is the water pot in the prover running dry?
Can you smell warm oil?  Is the fryer turned on?
Are there any scary gasleaks?
Is the part-time bouncy Redhead in today?

Working out mixes and numbers subconsciously,
heaving two sacks of flour into the mixer
as the buckets of water fill under the taps.
Breaking out a new block of yeast, brown at the edges
and starting to smell.  Make note to bollock supplier.

Crumble yeast into water, add handfull of sugar
and whisk with a real man-sized whisk.
More buckets filling as you whisk.
Weigh salt and lard, flip them into the mixer,
hit the switch and tip the water.

Weigh the next two mixes as the arms rise and fall,
mixing the ingedients and kneading with the power
of ten sturdy horses.  Not a place to put your hand!
Dancing the steps of the Baker's Ballet,
weights and effort looking easy, not a motion wasted.

Three on the go so it's time for the kettle,
the next man in makes the tea.  Arriving on time
as you heave the first lumps of dough onto the table.
Check the ovens, you heard them click in on the timer
and saw the lights dim briefly, but always check.

Tea's up and start of shift grunts are exchanged,
real talk comes later whilst cutting and weighing,
the more mechanical actions than doughmaking.
Gentle waft of hand-rolled tobacco and perfume,
Ah, Caroline's in.  That'll make the time go faster.

And so the hours pass, pulling, dragging, tipping,
cutting, moulding, loading, unloading. 
Sod the union rules about teabreaks and breakfast,
this is 'Job and Finish'.  If we took the breaks they
say we need we'd be here all soddin' day.

Teasing with Caroline and the other shop girls,
backchat with customers, helping the blind lady
find a brown loaf amongst the same shaped white.
Hear the ovens click off on the timer, but check.
End of the month - so check the oil tank outside.

Peeling the last loaves from the oven, the long
wooden 'shovel' rasping in and out, cursing the 
last irritating tin which spins, and tips, and knocks,
but just won't come out from twenty feet away
in the scorching back of the three deck oven.

Knock em'out and tray 'em up, wooden trays
don't sweat like plastic.  Real bread lasts longer.
Twenty four loaves to a tray, held high on one hand,
doing the hip swaying dance as you avoid sharp corners
en route to the shop.  "Very sexy!" purrs Caroline.

Stack the shelves, look around, everything ready
for twelve hours hence.  Check the timers, again!
Refill the prover pots, guess the weight of gas
in the cylinders feeding the doughnut fryer.  Enough.
Line up stuff for tomorrow as an aide memoire.

Hang up apron, stick head under tap and wash
the day's dust and sweat away.  Get changed.
Check timers again and go up to the shop,
take a final look at shelves and see what's selling.
Mental note to make extra scones tomorrow.

Absolutely shattered, dead on my feet,
but unwilling to go home just yet.
Tease Caroline, with hair like a rusty Brillo pad
glittering in the glow of the 'blue light' fly killer.
Maybe a hug, maybe not, she's a moody lass.

Back outside, helmet on, there's that smell again.
Unnoticed for the past twelve hours but fresh
on the outside air, then the sharp tang of petrol
closes the shift as I tickle the carb,
kickstart the beast, and return to my other world.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on August 20, 2007, 06:56:38 AM
Bubbles.  MWC.  Wales, UK.


My other world is
high-faluting.
Sparked and spangled.
There I am,
I have my foot stuck in
the back door, stage door,
look, they're looking
at me sing.
Now they're clapping
and I'm trilling
sweet notes, making old folks cry.
My flesh is toned and when I smile
my teeth make snowfalls blush.
I don't do my shopping,
I don't rush to work
in my other life.
Look, there I am, softly sitting squashily scanning
the Iliad whilst the world outside moves
through dawn and dusk
and leaves in silence the unflustered
husk
I would become,
in my other life.
If I had one.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on August 20, 2007, 07:51:09 AM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

Look, they're looking at me!
Only a walk on part today,
an amiable bearded buffoon,
a street peformer's 'prop',
randomly picked from the crowd.

Smile for the painted lady,
pretend to be embarrassed.
It makes the unchosen feel good,
safe in their anonymity and
revelling in my imagined discomfort.

They can't see the once-slim warrior,
the half-naked Gladiator
with swirling net and trident.
Or Baron Sable, arrogant
in his gleaming armour.

But it all comes back in a heartbeat,
the village green arena,
the TV studios,
the county shows,
'Fighting for strangers'.

They can't see the surprise
I feel through her muscles
as she relaxes against my arm,
realising I know the game,
and will gladly play my part.

It's only a 'walk on',
no thrills, no glory.
But I strut awhile
and feel the glow.
Hey, they're looking at me!
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on August 20, 2007, 04:27:12 PM
MWC:Allie:Irl

Hey, they're looking at me,
Seeing me make a mess of it.
It doesn't matter,
Sometimes things go wrong,
Even with the Longest Poem.
If I let myself get downhearted,
We'd have been finished
Before we began.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on August 21, 2007, 03:59:14 AM
MWC  Bubbles.  Wales, UK.


Before we begin we're finished,
before we start out on the road,
the highway or turnpike or our cut through the forest,
our cells are already old.
Withered from multiplication, tired, such ennui
worn down by replication to tread
sculptued historical paths.
As we walk them our eyes are blinded anew
and ears stopped by inflammatory mots,
like those stumbled before us we go,
nothing is fresh on the track.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on August 21, 2007, 05:51:47 AM
Lin - The Netherlands


Back on track
Walking by lakes
Watching the birds
Skimming down mines
Riding ski lifts
What a list!
Successful time out
Three week bliss
Barbecued brown trout
Relentless pouring rain
Then browning sun
Off we go
Once again driving
Through dark forests.
And Schwarwalde Kirschtorte
Larger than lunch
Cherries and cream
Stuffing me silly.
A daily fix
Of chocolate ice
Wienerschitzel and chips
The Swiss Rheinfalls
Like Niagara's white
Foam. We stood
High on rock
In the middle
Of roaring torrents
And clouded mist,
Was it ever
This blooming good?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: matsamu on August 21, 2007, 05:13:51 PM
MWC:Matsamu:USA

So I wait.
And every path that's ever forged
Every Movement ever made
Passes by
In a blink of an eye
Yet it's the Sky
That never seems to change
In the midst of all i've been through.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on August 21, 2007, 08:18:32 PM
Gyppo MWC UK

In the blink of an eye my viewpoint changed.
Tumbling a sailplane around a cold grey sky
above The Cairngorms one chilly August day,
soaring on invisible cushions of air
billowing up from the hillsides.

Powerful winds, funnelled and channelled,
trapped but neither tamed nor weakened,
then bursting upwards from blind valleys.
Seizing fragile alloy and fibreglass
and hurling me into the wispy clouds.

A flattened perspective from 5000 feet...
Where's the bloody landing strip?
Is that it there, or the nearby caravan site?
You don't want to find clothelines and cars
when it's too late to go around again.

Ah, over to the left!  Dip a wing and roll around.
Cross a ridge and feel the downdraught
tug at your delicately poised balance.
Catch it, hold it, don't over-correct.
Now, dive and suddenly feel the speed.

It looks so quiet from the ground,
but at 120 plus the wind screams
a banshee wail across the slender wings.
Then, just before the 'do not exceed',
pull back the stick and hold it there.

Up and up and up, it seems to last forever.
Nothing but grey sky in front, then suddenly...
Bloody hell, there's trees above your head,
the wind noise is almost silent, and
where instinct says 'ground' you see sky.

A few seconds more and everything reverts,
the world is in its proper place once more
as you level out and start breathing again.
Head for the landing strip, still far below,
looking impossibly small from that height.

Float in slowly across the perimeter fence.
Too high, too high, get the damn nose down!
Suddenly everything's happening so fast.
Coarse movements now, no delicate touch
when you're wrestling with the 'ground effect'.

Beat that damned air cushion,
almost slamming it onto the ground.
Belly wheel bouncing, tail skid dragging,
keep the wings level until it slows.
Christ, that last bit was hard work.

Open the cockpit, look up at the sky...
Yes, you've been where the eagles live,
you've danced on the wind, touched the heavens.,
New circuits have tripped open in your brain,
and a Groundling's life will never feel the same.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: writersart on August 22, 2007, 12:50:36 AM
MWC: writersart: USA

Once you've flown,
Touched the heavens,
Nothing will ever be the same.
Try and try again
To match the open sky,
No drug will take you that high,
But blue eyes in the rain
May see you with arms outstretched
Reaching for the heavens,
Longing for his touch.

Have you stood beneath the blue,
Reaching for the heavens,
Trying once more
To match the open sky,
The color of his eyes?
Once you've flown,
Touched the heavens,
Nothing will ever be the same.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on August 22, 2007, 02:30:07 AM
Lin - The Netherlands

My drive to town
Will never be the same
Noah's Ark is leaving us
Built on a modern dream
In which Holland was flooded.
The Dutchman, compelled
To build a vessel so fitting
For today's global warming,
She sits in Schagen harbour.
Over months I've watched
Plank by plank in rain and shine,
The building of an ark so huge
It dominates the skyline.
Each journey to the supermarket
Watching the progress of "Noah"
Whose determination was influenced
By God and the Bible.
Can you believe it?
She will leave me soon for Rotterdam
And my drive to town
Will it ever be so curious
Again?



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Amie on August 23, 2007, 05:53:51 AM
MWC:  Saturnine, UK

and again, it’s so curious
the persistant metaphor of the garden -
the French beans, neglected
yet heavy with fruit
more so than in years better tended.
and artichokes, inedible
spiky green leather
yet beautiful, an open spill
of purple velvet.
each fruit in profusion
bears a message if you choose
to interpret: 
make of it what you will.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: matsamu on August 24, 2007, 04:54:14 PM
MWC: Matsamu: USA

Which always leaves the choice
Enter the forsaken garden
Eat of the fruit that rightly isn't yours
Or leave it
The fruit owned by the earth that grew it
That hold given up by those who left it

The claim you wish to take upon yourself
To eat the fruit of self grown stalks
To partake in the messages inside

Or leave it

To pick every full pod from the vine
To pull the luscious morsels from the branch
To dig every bit of meat from the ground

Or leave it

The choice is forever yours
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: CII on September 09, 2007, 11:02:46 AM
MWC: CII: UK


Try my train’s length.
Suckle the wisdom words to guide you
from the harvest of the womb -
over the rising stones,
through the grasping snares,
beyond the liar and the cheat.
See them,
know them,
and turn away from those who would spoil
your graceful growth.
This is the journey of truth.
Choose wisely the transport you take.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on September 09, 2007, 11:46:49 AM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Choose wisely the transport you take
for it shapes your whole perception.
It's the same world, the same you,
the same eyes watching.  But...

Large aircraft isolate, despite the fat man
sharing your armrest, dripping with nerves
and making you think...
"Is his sick bag really big enough?".

Small aircraft, if you're the pilot,
make flying so intimate, so immediate,
that things of the ground become irrelevant
until the wheels bump you back to 'reality'.

Cars cocoon and isolate, a mechanical haven
with stereophonic surround sound.
Turn on the radio and aim for point 'B'.
You'll probably get there.

Motorcycles, like small aircraft, can be intense.
Total privacy inside your helmet,
with the world streaming past.  Snapshot moments,
people and places, stored for later recall.

Trains, like large aircraft, isolate you but let
the scenery unfold slowly.  Little villages,
a curve in a river, a narrow boat on a canal.
Like watching a film with the sound turned off.

A rowing skiff on a meandering English river,
lofty cattle towering on the banks alongside.
Splash of oars, creak of rowlocks, fish below,
and an eye level meeting with an aloof Swan.

Choose wisely the transport you take,
whether for necessity or pleasure.
Nothing is ever quite the same
when you look from a different viewpoint.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on September 15, 2007, 04:38:20 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Lasso, those streaks of fire.
Reach for the leaping flames
soaring skywards from the bauro yog -
the good fire - burning unashamed.

Sandalled  feet almost treading the embers,
sleeves rolled back and forearm hair singeing
as you dance the Fire Dance,
embracing the red and yellow sprites.

Motto - drunk - with the call of the wild,
each pass of bare arms through the flames
slower than the one before, until the flames grab
and you move faster again, smiling.

Weathered faces glowing, eyes sparkling
as everyday burdens are cast aside.
Pausing momentarily to pinch out glowing
embers burning both shirt and dikklo.

"Uncle John's pushing his luck tonight."
Says the Serbian witch-woman, keeping
her own chavvies back from the flames,
deep set eyes dark and unfathomable.

"Step aside!"  My nephew, a quiet little geek
in his working life, has caught the Pyro-Fever.
Three running steps in the darkness and
he leaps the flames to wild applause.

The witch-woman nods her understanding.
He's a good husband but sometimes,
a man has to be one with the elements
and embrace the fire.

She brews coffee, as thick as mud,
as bitter as death, and tells fortunes
from the slurry in the bottom of the
tiny mugs.  Black patterns in the firelight.

As the fire burns down strange tales are told.
As the flames grow smaller the chavvies
shuffle closer and reach tentatively, too quickly,
at the smaller flames.  Their day will come.

The more civilised go in to watch the TV
whilst the elementals stay, watching the embers.
Glowing grottoes spark and crumble away,
as tiny yellow flame sprites flare briefly in the wind.

To the gas barbecue neighbours it's
a stinky bonfire, a polluting throwback
to the Dark Ages.  For us, and ours,
a defence against the Modern Darkness.

Live flames, not the cold sodium scatter
of streetlights blanking out the stars.
Real heat, real risks, not the pseudo
buzz of flat-life flat-screen computer games.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on September 16, 2007, 03:37:17 PM
MWC Bubbles Wales UK


Flat-life, flat-screened computer games didn't exist back then
when myriad faced time was something we could string out,
and blow in fresh young winds.
Eternity washing.  Flapping limbs running, cycling, be back at teatime, high times,
byetimes.
Diamond water swimming and crispy towels in bags, rolled tight by mam.
'Don't be late.' 
Singing hearts and Clarks sandals under drooping knobbly socks.
Beetroot sandwiches,
or squashy tomato,
with flaxen rivers of salad cream.
No golden arches were dreamed of unless in chapel
but not by us, who shunned the serious old pepperminted ones. Crinkly singing Sundays were eons away. 
No buzzing pockets, no car pool dads.
Grit filled scabby knees and breaking hazelnuts with teeth.
Love Me Do's black disc scratched from use.
Real chips for supper, or meat in pies.
Yet still we live whilst all around, adventure dies.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Mark H on September 17, 2007, 10:24:27 AM
MWC: Citabria : Old England

And adventure is reborn with a mid life
born again adventurer. And so
let the young laze and snooze and
sleep till noon. Let them fry, pickle
and poach their brains – perhaps the
hoody will protect them!
This mid life is no crisis, not even a minor
flap. This is the age of the middle age.
Ha! We may have missed the sixties but
we’ll take our sex and drink
(you can keep your drugs dude)
and rock and roll, and then we may just
have a nap.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on September 17, 2007, 10:53:08 AM
MWC Lin - The Netherlands



Napping in the sun on a hammock
I wondered how they managed it all
A house in France derelict and forlorn
Transformed to catch the light,
Disentangle the day and put up my feet.
Transfixed by the flowers on the balcony
Petunias and pelargonium in sweet harmony.
I imagined I was totally contented
Life was never going to be this good.
The glimmer of the swimming pool,
The smell of the barbecue,
Fish, steak and roasted sweet corn.
The hammock swayed in a non-existent breeze,
They did well, hard work and sweat
Never did them any harm, but as for me,
 I was just looking after the house
Until they returned from a personal tragedy
The funeral of their son,
Lest I forget.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Bubbles on September 17, 2007, 12:07:50 PM
MWC Bubbles Wales, UK

Lest I forget
the marigolds will tell me
that I forgot
the spring must come again.
And my regret for the wasted years of passion
sobbing draughts of lilacs shall hold aloft
sweet violet mirrors to my pain.
Laughing swathes of buttercups running over
far off hills
surely herald something glad and glorious?
The ground will only hold so much of the wetness from my eyes.



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on September 17, 2007, 02:32:58 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Laughing swathes of buttercups
nodding in the breeze opposite
my open windows.

Then, with the sounds of discord,
"Ben Bloody Hur" and his Chariot,
- his Council motor mower - arrive.

The golden blooms fall and lie shredded,
because "The grass must be kept tidy..."
and "...there's a proper mowing schedule".

"He's only doing his job..."
"It's nice to see the grass looking tidy..."
Yeah...  Tidy like a grave-plot.

Would an extra half inch do any harm?
Why not let the buttercups and daisies bloom?
This was a meadow once, some forty years ago.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: AngelB4U on September 20, 2007, 05:08:40 PM
MWC AngelB4U  USA

There was a meadow there 40 years ago.
Time passes slowly for us, since then it became a thriving city.
Take pictures.  Pass them down to the youngsters so they can record the passing of time on one spot of the earth.  Let their youngsters do the same.
It could change from a meadow to a city to an ocean or a graveyard.  The winds of time may blow hard enough to create a desert.  See how it changes when you come back again.  Time is precious.  Live for love.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on September 20, 2007, 07:18:59 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Time is indeed precious,
sometimes we waste it,
sometimes we taste it,
and sometimes it just slips away.

Too much to do,
not enough time,
screen going blurry,
muscles all aching.

Stretch out for a while,
ten minutes should do,
to unkink my body,
and then I'll press on.

Wake seven hours later,
fully dressed and unmoved
as the screen-saver flickers
and the clock tells the tale.

"7am!  You must be joking!"
Stumble to my chair
and press a few keys.
"Well at least I'd saved it..."

But seven hours gone,
more unconscious than sleeping,
with no mental clock
to record their passing.

Seven hours from my life,
stolen rather than surrendered.
Time I can never regain
no matter how I work.

Like virginity, or innocence,
the loss brings other benefits.
But once it's gone, it's gone
and you just get on with it.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on September 21, 2007, 05:16:09 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

That's really all you can do, isn't it?
Get on with your life,
Whatever it may be,
Playing the hand you have been given,
With every day seeming like a cliche
Used by a million others:
Another book to read, email to write,
Another bus to catch, or hill to climb,
Another meal to make or thing to buy,
Another debt to pay or coin to find,
Another thought to let sit there and give mind-room to,
Not knowing about the ones clustering off-stage
Waiting for what happens to you
To set them alight.
Sometimes you don't think about these things,
But at others you are aware
Of life, almost a personification,
Waiting to surprise or shock you,
Slyly grinning to itself
Somewhere around the corner there.



Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: rdshultz on September 22, 2007, 01:45:39 PM

Round the Corner
 
No large infectious grin to wake up to,
That generous countenance is no longer here.
I can not reach out and feel him beside me
But he has taught me not to fear.
He taught me how to love,
With no limitations
A love beyond kind words
Nothing's the same in relations.
Like a flower I have bloomed,
From a caterpiller came a butterfly,
He taught me how to open up
And now I see the sky.
I see past me to others,
I through him to life,
He was my husband and my lover,
And I became more than just a wife.
He will always be in my heart now,
Always be a part of me,
He is just round the corner,
A large part of my reality.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on September 22, 2007, 07:31:28 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

A large part of my reality
consists of dreams.
Sometimes my own, and
sometimes dreamt for others
who lack an easy way with words.

Dark dreams, bright dreams,
sometimes so complex and fragile
they fade in the dawn's light.
Whilst others are trapped,
pinned down on paper.

A large part of my reality
has been living my dreams,
bringing them off the page,
collecting the life-scars
to further fuel imagination.

"We do not grow old as those
without dreams grow old."
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on September 23, 2007, 05:08:15 AM
MWC Lin  - The Netherlands

Growing old is never far away
A moment of youth and then
A brief session of thirties and forties.
An ache, a pain, an illness,
Suddenly you begin to feel it
It haunts your very soul
From the moment you can recall
Your childhood, your youth
Motherhood, fatherhood and before
You know it, grandparenthood.
Growing old is never far away
It's like a silent threat waiting,
Waiting to jump in the water
Before you drown in your wrinkles
Flabby belly and osteoporosis.
The only consolation is your wisdom
The mistakes you made in youth
Will not be made again.
That wisdom you pass on to another
Generation of youth. They look up to you
And one day will recall your stories,
Your nursery ryhmes and your memory
When they are old.  Your soul isn't lost
You are not forgotton or cast away
Your life wasn't wasted, surely not?
What you have had was good,
The love you gave, the sorrow you had
Are all part of living and dying.
So growing old is never far away
Its just a passing phase before
The next generation of youth
And your personality is passed on
Even in death you are never far away.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Johnorman on October 11, 2007, 11:46:39 PM
MWC - Johnorman

And your personality is passed on
Even in death you are never far away.

Close then, but to whom, or what or where
Might be worth asking if you were interested.
Perhaps, it is possible, you never cared much
If you were remembered or forgotten almost
Instantly, like a cool breeze or spring shower.
Impressions register, mature and fade, sometimes
After reproducing, sometimes before, depending
On their value to the receiver and his reception
And talent to transmit.
Sometimes the talent wanes
Due to interference
On a repetitious plane.

Then, again, it could be the present memories
Are deemed sufficient for this moment in time.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: kendall on November 04, 2007, 08:46:09 PM
MWC:Kendall:Western Australia

And that all else that fades is insignificant.
That it is enough for it to linger
Around distant edges, blurred
in silent retreat, waiting
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on November 08, 2007, 04:56:27 AM
Lin MWC The Netherlands - On behalf of Lone Droscher Nielsen (Borneo) BOS foundation


In not so silent retreat the rainforest is declining
The burning, the slashing and loss of life,
The Old Man of the Forest, his wife has just died
Leaving a screaming baby clinging to its mother
The screaming goes on for days until
They found him screaming less - too late
Finally he curls up and dies.

They didnt know how to feed him
His thin body finally gave up
What did he do to deserve this
Slashing and burning and killing.

 Lone the mother
Giving her soul to caring
"Never mind little one
We will take care of you"
Her heart is beating
Through all the screaming
Her mind is full of ache
And hope and love
She asks "When will this stop?'




 

Title: RE: STICKY: ATTEMPT TO WRITE THE LONGEST POEM IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE
Post by: WESTON on November 12, 2007, 01:26:22 AM
MWC: WESTON: USSA


Stop?
Silent.
Sufficent.
Death dreams grow.

Reality around you changes-
meadows wetness forgot.
Have we games when you look?
Transport choice.

You again?
Nothing life good-
been nothing before.

Looking one world home,
birth between stars dance.
Fear,
yeah,

alone.

Write well to carry technology-
all are bloody.
Mouths must not be might!
Widening lost light,
save my day.

Winding to cloud 9.
What am i without you?
Nothing, search a shoulder...
home to the glittering gale.

Hell, thursday, remember?
From that childs tears of dark thoughts...
now...
his life.

A god could someday reflect senility.
Alive, but its simply betrayed lives.
Instead of darkness eternity,
darkness only lines.

One wrong gift of the worms-
isnt inside my head.
Inside i curl a longer match.
Where, then?

Sea, please? Unrealities.
The wait-
for night-
elsewhere.

His older reality-
making
moments longer-
no more.

Know human satisfaction Amber!
Again tragedy watches,
despite
salvation.

Alive i know-
this sun.
Once-
i claimed it.

Understand something,
sleep on volcano.
See hope as god-
not yet my intention.

 

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: chillies on November 21, 2007, 04:08:38 AM
MWC UK chillies


Not yet my intention, nor my desire.
When I was young, I thought I knew everything,
owned the world, took things for granted.

Now I have grown and understand little,
have seen nothing of the world, but realise that time is precious.
Only now do I start to live, make up for lost moments.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on November 22, 2007, 04:15:24 AM
Lin - The Netherlands

Then I did see the world
I made up for lost moments
Wish it, dream it, do it
I lived the dream and proved
You can have whatever you want
Just wish it, dream it, then do it
The word is wonderful
Walking in virgin rainforest
Climbing the highest mountains
Swimming in blue lakes
Caring for wildlife
Watching turtles on the beach
Spending Chinese New Year
In the middle of the Atlantic
You forget the bad times
The hurricane in the Pacific Ocean
Doing two knots backwards.
The mosquitoes and snakes
Leaches and swamps

Age is creeping up like the snake
I feel like the turtle
After a night on the beach
What was it that made me
Wish it, dream it, do it?
I was afraid of lost moments
I took nature by the hand
And lived in harmony
Look after yourself
Most of all look after your planet
Wish it, dream it, do it

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on November 23, 2007, 10:51:09 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

I was day-dreaming the other day, in hospotel -
One of those places for the well-insured, or rather
The insured unwell, with beds that you can make
Go up and down, and TV/computers for everyone,
And fancy menus on the table for when your appetite returns -
When a priest came in, a pleasant, smiling man,
Introducing himself as the new chaplain, and lowering
His head like a dog that wants to be patted.

He inquired from whence we had come, and found
Common ancestral home with the woman in the next bed.
After he had exhausted Kerry as a topic he stood
By the window and talked to us of his long ago
Mission fields in Nigeria, and the more recent time
Spent in New York, among the very poor, and as he spoke
His eyes drifted over the golf course outside
The window, called, aptly enough, by a name that evokes
Spartan men of prayer, and he said that he might join
The golf club now that he had come to work here.
Perhaps he was joking, but I followed his eyes and thought
Of those ancient imitators of Christ who carried staves
Instead of clubs, and whose holes were in their clothes.

Still, joking or not, the chaplain looked pleased to be
In such civilised surroundings, as if they offered a preview
Of some heavenly golf course where he could claim his just reward.
Then he offered us communion after his upcoming Mass,
And when I declined he probed and discovered that I was not
One of his faithful, in fact considered myself to be a free Christian,
[although that is really only half the story]. He then seemed
To become somewhat disturbed, as if his day had suddenly taken on
An uncomfortably unpredictable look, and unwelcome clouds
Had swept across his personal course. He murmured uncertainly
That all the same, whatever your persuasion, God was nice to have
When you found yourself in a place like this, wasn't he? I told him
That I didn’t think it mattered, because some spirit had probably been
Injected into us all at the start, that wasn't going to be altered now.

What I thought but didn't say was that the New Testament Christ, the man
We are told walked among the poor and cured without the benefit of
Voluntary health insurance was very far removed from our hospotel room, with
Its complimentary bathroom soaps and shower gels, its shining wooden
Floors upon which the patients glide listlessly like ghosts. I mean, can you see
Jesus in one of those beds pondering what to choose for his next meal? Not I.
If he's anywhere in the health system, I would expect him to be waiting
In rags on a trolley in the public A&E, or doing the dirtiest job somewhere,
A porter maybe, healing with terrible old jokes and groaning sympathy.

Unhappy with my rejection of his words, the priest bowed his head
In suffering, as if I had trampled unforgiveably on his rosy view
Of things. Squinting sadly back at me, and blessing us all, he left.
It's Mary Harney's HSE he should be praying for: terminally ill
For some years now, it’s dying as we speak. The mourners are
Already gathering and and the gravediggers are frantically seeking
The lost plot in some cemetery dedicated to broken ideals
And pigs that have failed to fly.


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Big T on November 24, 2007, 08:32:39 AM
MWC  Big T Vietnam

Birds flying through an open sky
Green meadows, a stream meanders by
Farmers working rich brown soil
Food on our tables, the result of his toil

Stars twinkling bright at night
A full moon casting silver light
Ripe fruit on the bough
Piglets suckle a contented sow

Sea breezes and sighing winds blow
Deep pools of blue, fish swimming below
Flowers bloom all colours and hues
Blacksmiths forging new horseshoes

Smells of newly baked breads
Sounds of the watermill as through the river it treads
Children’s laughter as they play
The blood red dawn of a brand new day

Construction workers, spirits soared
As each new layer of concrete is poured
Falling rain through dark clouds slanted
Are we perhaps taking Nature for granted
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Big T on November 24, 2007, 08:40:32 AM
MWC Big T Vietnam

Drilling into Mother Earth,
As far as the bit will go,
Seismic explosions rippling below
Echoes returning high and low,
Prodding and probing straight and true,
Through sedimentary layers of different hue,
Scientists analyse their spoil,
In the ongoing search for oil.

They rape our Mother Earth,
Without a second thought,
Their pleasure and their satisfaction,
A deviated sort,
It is not the physical pleasure,
That makes these men get off,
But only the discovery,
Of a certain formation of rock.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on November 24, 2007, 08:21:47 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

It's not the physical pleasure
that makes these men get off,
or that makes these things worthwhile.
It's not even the adrenaline rush,
surging and buzzing through your veins
as you hang from a cliff face,
or you leap your motorcycle
over a humpbacked bridge,
or do a perfect 'ragdoll' fall
from a horse without any injury.
It's not the song of a six foot blade
keening over your head
as you duck beneath its threat
and shamelessly exult in your timing.

It's the feeling that just for a few seconds,
here and there, in a world of uncertainties,
you are in charge.
Your life in your own hands,
and, if you chose,
you could throw it away.

But you never do.  Because if you did...
People would think you'd failed,
made a mistake.
And that's not what it's about.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on December 10, 2007, 05:58:51 AM
MWC:Allie:Irl

So what is it about? Must we know to be complete? And does
Not knowing, not completing, mean that we have failed?
I have no doubt I will be taken in the middle of something:
There will be things unfinished, that have been occupying
My mind. As the joke doctor says, telling the patient the true state
Of things, ‘Well, just don’t go starting any serials.’ We are all
Terminally ill, only most of us don’t realise it. In so-called dying
Interruption is unavoidable. We are always going to be
On the way to finishing some job, some book, some poem. I suspect
That our dreams will then finish them for us, that we probably
Exist in a dreamlike state in between lives; we never really die
But only live without form, until we choose to take on another, and
Show ourselves again, like the invisible man taking on discarded
Clothing. Consciousness is the sensation of skin against soul:
In the new beginning a chafing and a confining feeling that makes
Us cry and lash out with feet and arms against this now strange
Indignity. Then, gradually, still tied umbilically to our dreams,
We drift back towards them, as when our bodies live we return
Each day to physical life. Each sleep now is another welcome death,
Though these grow shorter: as our new life reaches out from
Springtime into summer, we yearn less for the dream world we
Remember. The wave swells towards yet another peak, the sound and
Might of it washing over our child memories and our infant
Understanding: we are carried with it into the certainty of our
Physical being. The clothed spirit feels at one with time and thinks
That this is all there is, this rising sense of being, this power, this
Novelty. It is only at night that, unclothed again, it dreams its true
Living and, like a returning exile, again reaches inwards towards home.






Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on December 10, 2007, 06:18:26 AM

Lin MWC the Netherlands

I reach inwards to my heart and discover
There is nothing more rewarding
Or appealing than to look him in the eyes
Your breath is stopped short, he looks back,
He knows, he doesn't speak, just stares,
Talking to me in facial expression
Looking upwards to the sky, arms reaching,
If he could speak he would tell me stories.
He cannot express in words how he feels
I have to assume he is well and happy
I show my teeth and he replies with a kiss
That says "I love you". I just know
I just know, time after time he means it
He is holding tight, clinging to my sweatshirt
Staring me in the eyes, how else could I know
How he feels, those eyes are everything.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on December 10, 2007, 11:42:15 AM
Gyppo:  MWC:  UK

Those eyes are everything.
Forget the glib lies,
the mendicant's whine
of the professional beggar.
Those you can ignore,
'Walking by on the other side'
with a clear conscience.
Or soothing a little unease by saying
"Someone else will help."

But the right kind of eyes
will trap you from across the street,
reach out from a darkened doorway,
peer from a bundle of rags
huddled under a bridge support,
and pin you like a butterfly
on a corkboard.
Sometimes there really is no choice.
Samaritans have no alternative.

Those are the times you have to stop,
times which transcend 'common sense',
when 'common humanity' wins.
When the stench of the streets,
the waft of alcohol,
the grey skin,
the hurrying footsteps
and averted eyes of others
just don't count anymore.

It's not always money they want,
though it's always useful.
A shared burger,
a bit of a joke,
a bit of your time.
Just a simple acknowledgement
of their existence sometimes.
It's more than 'the street people'
ever normally get.

They say we are all just one
pay-cheque away from the streets,
and it's a long climb back.
So throw a coin in the beggars hat,
give him the Big Mac you can't finish,
but remember to smile.
Smile to hide the knowledge
that the roles could be reversed,
and the the eyes in the doorway
could so easily be yours.     
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on January 15, 2008, 10:34:07 AM
Lin - Amsterdam ArtisZoo MWC Member

The eyes in the doorway said it all
She looked at me and smiled
Holding out her hand I touched it
For the first time.  A gentle touch,
A kiss to say she liked me.
I know the feeling well.
We held fingers for a while
Her brown eyes met mine
Peeking from behind that doorway
With open bars and the warm straw
She laid down beside me,
Blowing me kisses I loved her
Truly.  Feeling my nose she pouted
Then giggled and my heart was in awe
As a tear fell down my cold cheeks.

I know you aren't where you belong
But the joy you gave me was beyond
Any feeling I have ever known
I will vow for the rest of my days
To fight for your freedom
Your passions and your rights
To live as you should live
Your destiny is not in the zoo
But out there in the rainforest
I will stand up for you - I promise.
Your loving friend -Lin x x x


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on January 23, 2008, 10:14:23 AM
Lin - MWC Member The Netherlands

I promise to share a brand new year
With all my family and friends
I promise not to make mistakes
On all the things that have gone before
I hope to make a brand new start
With promises I can fulfil
And make a difference to my world
By slimming down, yet another
New Year's Resolution
That I never fulfil,  try as I might
I promise to do it again.

Windy days and cold dark mornings
I await the end of January
When my world begins to awaken
The evenings are just gently
Opening up to Spring
And there, before me, is the last snow
Before the ducks get fatter
And the insects begin to emerge
From the straws I put out last year
I promise once again to enjoy myself
A year of creation and helping others.

So let us try harder in 2008
To breathe the fresher air of life
Embrace the souls of the land
Enjoy the chatter of the birds
As we have always promised ourselves
Some time to reflect and time to love.
We have a future, use it wisely
Love thy neighbour as thyself
It was said.  I do, I try so hard
But my neighbours are at war
Can they promise to stop and reflect?


Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: thatollie on January 23, 2008, 11:03:39 AM
MWC: thatollie, East Anglia UK

Can they promise to stop and reflect?
Gaze upon themselves without ego,
and see the beauty of their enemies.
Is it ever a case of winners and losers?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Jethika on February 22, 2008, 12:50:10 PM
MWC: Allea: Manitoba, Canada

Winners or losers,
Heroes or anti-heroes?
Which contains more worth
in the end when we stand
at the bridge of limbo
compelled forward by
the clock whose mechanics
are the only thing eternal?
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Gyppo on March 22, 2008, 09:53:15 PM
MWC:  Gyppo:  UK

Compelled forward by genetics
my two girls lead very different lives.

The eldest, an 'Earth Mother' type,
loves working with children.
Children with problems, better still.
She's been there,
knows how they feel,
sometimes still feels it herself.
But she's at Uni too,
one day a week,
driven by the urge to learn.
A day without new knowledge,
or a decent bite of cake,
is a day wasted.

The youngest is more academic,
studying law and 'lovin' it'.
She learns more easily,
at home with abstract concepts, 
but still pushes herself to learn more.
But recently she's discovered crochet,
an unexpected craft skill
burgeoning in those short fingers
which look so 'unhandy'.
She's planning to sell her work,
so that's genetics too ;-)

Two girls, so different
yet so alike.
A reminder my wife and I
made more than just love together.
Stubby artisan's fingers,
enquiring minds,
appreciation of worth,
and the souls of poets.

Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: thatollie on March 22, 2008, 09:57:25 PM
MWC: thatollie: UK

And the soul's of poets.
rejected the bodies, useless husks.

Drifting about the ether,
downloaded - evolved.

Hacking into endless thought.
..// Join us.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Solitaire on April 08, 2008, 04:17:20 PM
MWC: Solitaire: USA

Join us
In thought that drifts
Beyond the Moon
Beyond the Sun
In thought that skims
the very edge of the universe
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: dynodreamer on April 08, 2008, 04:48:15 PM
MWC: Dynodreamer: Canada

In thought tempered with need
directed by the rote from safe harbors
Washing- cleansing, amidst the sands of time
One horizon- blues to greys, and mauve to orange
The dream can touch it - even ride
The vapors of it’s random glide
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Lin on May 14, 2008, 03:46:33 PM
MWC - Lin The Netherlands


And the colours of the dream,
Were guarded by angels calling
Words of wisdom and warning
Me of times to come, the future
Of mankind and the earthquakes.
There is no end to the rocking
And people are lost in complete darkness,
Trapped inside the cupboard where once
They took shelter, and now they are dead.

I found him, a doll in his hand, his mouth
Open to say the next word, his heart
Stopped before we could say goodbye.
Clutching the handle on the wardrobe door
His life was taken and all the others, calling
To be saved, the shouts became softer
Until one night, there was no sound at all,
The knocking ceased and no-one came
The water flooded in and rushed along the hall.

The dream and the angels became reality
The screams were dying too, and me ?
I tried to move,but no-one came and I screamed
"Is there anyone there at all?"
They didn't come, and terrified as I might be
I told myself not to die yet
They might save me, for all its worth
I will stay alive so I can tell the story,
The day the rocking came, and I was all alone.

I heard  the voices along the hallway.
Underneath the beam which once held the roof
I heard his last sigh, I said "hang in there
Don't die yet, we will be saved together"
We were going to be heroes and come out smiling
As he sighed his last sigh, the doll, still on his chest
Stopped rising and falling as I had seen
All I could see was a six year old sleeping his last sleep
I only had to wait a little longer and it would all be over








Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: TristanNewsome on May 18, 2008, 11:44:08 PM
Tristan MWC Australia

It was around this time
that god tried to get me on his side
it was somewhere between his first and last lie
He expected a change in character time and face
But it was to late to save this damned soul from grace
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: eve-naive on May 29, 2008, 12:16:24 AM
Helen MWC UK


Then I felt my heart heave
Grace is a gift.
Free, free, free!

There is still a chance
even for me.

With eyes open wide
I raise my hands to the sky
Breath in creation and breath out a sigh.
Title: Re: Sticky: MWC Attempt to Write the Longest Poem in the English Language
Post by: Allie on June 14, 2008, 08:40:49 AM
Temporary note of rules - this will be removed after each contribution is successfully posted:

Any poetic device is permissible, with the exception that there should not be more than two end rhymes in any one contribution.

Please do not give your contribution a title, as it is part of the whole Longest Poem.

Each new contribution should be headed up as follows: MWC:Contributor's ID:location.

Contributions should be a minimum of two lines, with no maximum.

The first line of each individual contribution should be loosely linked to the contribution above in some way, with the aim of unifying the whole poem. This can be done by:

  repetition of a noun, verb, adjective or adverb from the last two lines of the previous contribution;

  repetition of the last line of the previous contribution, or a phrase from the last line;

  by use of end rhyme with the last line of the previous contribution;

  by clear and obvious continuation of an idea in the last four lines of the previous contribution.