sick bugger

When I stop laughing I'll get back to you.

Wow, I remember this...kind-of. This is what you get at about 4 in the morning stoned and drunk: a total whitman rip-off. Nevertheless, I think it's a sharp-witted social critique of modern relationships and how I should have nothing to do with them. This poem is ahead of its time; its time being the end of time. Groundbreaking.

Thanks for your patience, C. I'm glad I waited because originally i thought you'd overshot your target. After coming back I see " a little bit of history repeating". I like this and I think it's all there. My nits would be: unfurled- bugs me, but I see the rhyme. Could you merge lines 7 and 9? And -loom. again I see the rhyme but it just sounds awkward to me. Three generations?

This is my favorite of your songs. Very good madam, very good.

I always feel apprehensive when I read one of yours because there always seems such a terrible underpinning of cynicism and apathy which is the last thing you should be aiming for. There needs to be hope. Anyway this is a metaphor that seems to track although I really think Senryu strangle the life out of metaphor.

This needs paring down. You need to make every phrase count. If you do it skillfully repetition can work as a kind of motif but there seems no point to repeating 'as the darkness surrounds me' which is a pretty bland line the first time round. Quietness of the night, silence of the night, calmness of the storm, in the stillness of the night. This is too long winded you are pretty much repeating the same thing over and over. And be creative with the language tell us something we don't know. Use metaphor or interesting image. Be more descriptive and precise, phrases such as the sound of pain the sound of joy are too vague. Again last verse, if the sounds of love (again too vague) are holding you hostage there is no need to say they are enclosing you. Just take a hatchet to all the lines that do not add to our understanding.

I don't doubt you can see moslem's bums when they pray but isn't that a touch trivial when we are talking about someone's spiritual life.

I have read most, maybe not all, but most of your haiku/senryu collection, and this is the best. It might scan better if the second line was rearranged to 'across scratched and warped records' - still retains the effect you're aiming for (I think). 'Sticking' might be better for being replaced; 'catching' or 'snagging' perhaps carry more appropriate connotations and sounds.

Nice idea, but it really needs to either be fully punctuated, or not punctuated at all (and let the word and line arrangement do the work). As it is, we have: Little talons that I feel perch on my shoulder when I look on the apple and the hair and I listen to the cough and the chatter. Little talons that I feel even in the absence of such things I could not imagine you not perched on my shoulder you could be mere apparition and still I could not get rid of you, I could only lose you. Little talons.

Sounds like a stalker to me. I read an article in the Grauniad today, a woman boasting about how a chap tried to talk to her in the supermarket and how she caused a scene by shouting loudly that his attention was unwanted and that he was sexually harrassing her. I think she went a bit over the top but still having involved intrapsychic conversations about a stranger is a bit James Blunt.

You've got that right! My son is also 25 and has been to Iraq twice and they want him to go a third? What is up with all that? I liked your poem.

Pippin and cofa are indiginous trees of coventry 'cofa tree' was where coventry derived. After these hangings they were treated to a coating of hot tar and left to rot for 35 years - Coventry justice has never been the same since lol.

oh and 'coventry blue' was the colour renowned that coventry weavers produced until the early 20th century.

This is a true story. True. I'm not sure whose, though

Poo does not coagulate. What are you some kind of dunce.

Better than your last. Still a lot of you repeating yourself to no particular effect. Also numb is a terrible word choice in a poem by a grownup.

In all of my artistic endeavors, art, music, cooking, and writing, I do so for myself. It is an outlet, it cleanses my emotions, it teaches me something new, and it results in a creation. If someone else enjoys and benefits, wonderful. Ignore him. I enjoyed this more than most of what I have read on this site.

'crippled face' doesn't work. A face can't be crippled because it never had any limbs and/or could never walk in the first place. What are you? Some kind of dunce?

thanks, rock!!!!