on SMS by daniella
23 Apr 2006, 3:41 PM
That's just what I was thinking.
on Taste Ghazni by eliastemplar
6 Jun 2008, 2:54 AM
in-sense?
on some deleted poem
6 Jun 2008, 2:52 AM
I'll give you a 10 for the use of tractor in your title. and a -9 for the rest of it.
on Embrace the Politics by impert&ent
26 Feb 2017, 5:38 PM
Stewart Stacy
on some deleted poem
26 Dec 2005, 2:02 PM
Nice tone. I appreciate the subtle humor.
on I'll start by nentwined
15 Nov 2020, 10:40 AM
Crank up the old motor
on Deep Translation by T. Jonathron Remp
24 Jan 2016, 7:54 AM
Skating with the rays
Shellfishing suits trackwise trainers
Shellfishing suits trackwise trainers
on Synchronicity by Prince of Void
24 Jan 2016, 7:57 AM
... alors
même que
même que
on And on and on and on by nentwined
26 Aug 2016, 8:08 AM
Something a bit repetitive here, and title not evocative of the imagery
on Celui by half.italian
26 Aug 2016, 8:09 AM
Celui? Ce lui? Anyhow, nice evocation of a once in a lifetime fuck.
on Everybody's Gone by impert&ent
10 Jun 2020, 5:25 PM
Poemranker you are still here
in spite of that lousy security exception
nearly two years after I last visited.
What is that about?
How do you manage?
Fucking ghost ship, wandering the highways,
playing sneak attack on the pilgrim tourists
Straddling the dusty road like some forlorn and has-been movie set
Cast off from the realities of TV and film production
Lonely ghost town ISO lonesome highway for romance and possible LTR.
in spite of that lousy security exception
nearly two years after I last visited.
What is that about?
How do you manage?
Fucking ghost ship, wandering the highways,
playing sneak attack on the pilgrim tourists
Straddling the dusty road like some forlorn and has-been movie set
Cast off from the realities of TV and film production
Lonely ghost town ISO lonesome highway for romance and possible LTR.
on Days of Silence (1-196) by impert&ent
14 Jun 2020, 7:28 AM
Poemranker was silent between February 15, 2019 and March 13, 2020. We had nothing to say for 390 days. I have filled that gap with one-line poems to make 56 weekly stanzas. We are now whole again.
This is the first 28 weeks.
This is the first 28 weeks.
on Days of Silence (197-392) by impert&ent
14 Jun 2020, 2:38 PM
Poemranker was silent between February 15, 2019 and March 13, 2020. We had nothing to say for 390 days. I have filled that gap with one-line poems to make 56 weekly stanzas. We are now whole again.
on Where are all the poets? by nentwined
11 Nov 2020, 7:04 PM
Likewise, this is a beauty. A cadence, a repetition, with or without rhyme. Good timing!
on Lovesick by impert&ent
20 Nov 2020, 2:40 PM
She's an icthyologist.
With a flick of the tale, she's off.
Fin
With a flick of the tale, she's off.
Fin
on Days of Silence (1-196) by impert&ent
25 Nov 2020, 3:26 PM
This is my audience. I'm not sure there's ever been another. I have looked. And wished.
So the silence tells a story.
So the silence tells a story.
on living stone by nentwined
10 Feb 2021, 5:18 AM
A bit of a riddle, but knowable...
on Jerusalem the Golden by rabbi sammy schtupp
10 Feb 2021, 5:21 AM
I like blesting fish to pisces. As for the rest of it, well, as Groucho Marx said on so many occasions...
Shear numbers; they're in for a haircut, a scalping.
Shearing flight, slicing the air.
Shearing numbers: as immortalised by Kerouac.
And as always he leaned his blind head on his pale hand, all ears opened like the ears of an elephant, listening to the American sounds and mastering them for his own English summer's-night use. Then they urged him to get up and play. He did. He played innumerable choruses with amazing chords that mounted higher and higher till the sweat splashed all over the piano and everybody listened in awe and fright. They led him off the stand after an hour. He went back to his dark corner, old God Shearing, and the boys said, 'There ain't nothin left after that.
https://www.muziekweb.nl/en/Link/U000011
Shearing flight, slicing the air.
Shearing numbers: as immortalised by Kerouac.
And as always he leaned his blind head on his pale hand, all ears opened like the ears of an elephant, listening to the American sounds and mastering them for his own English summer's-night use. Then they urged him to get up and play. He did. He played innumerable choruses with amazing chords that mounted higher and higher till the sweat splashed all over the piano and everybody listened in awe and fright. They led him off the stand after an hour. He went back to his dark corner, old God Shearing, and the boys said, 'There ain't nothin left after that.
https://www.muziekweb.nl/en/Link/U000011
on Ginger Cascade by impert&ent
4 Oct 2021, 4:05 PM
This is the first of the five.
Nothing else has been written yet.
Nothing else has been written yet.