Re: Sticks and Stones Farm, Pot Luck Thursday Nights by <~>	28-Jan-03/8:17 PM
First of all the title; Potluck, Thursday Nights That is a wonderful title, leaving things open and full of surprise. Last line first: out into the starlight The big stone barn shines warmth Tthrough the overhead glass doors. Never twice the same these steps we take. The gravel path through the cedars is ice tonight. I am the last to arrive. The dozer and the back-hoe loom Hazy orange Sleeping behind a sheet of insulating plastic They crouch there, in the makeshift hall Behind the roll down door Prehistoric shadows Like a playground for kids who don't listen. The table is set, and the food is almost ready. There are four meats, and no salad but nobody minds. Another log is thrown on the fire to keep us warm And I have brought winter ale. We dance after dinner, separating circles that overlap and reform, distortions in the same flow, dance ourselves a river each week. Never twice the same, these steps we trace. Dance, slide, swing and kick Socks off, crazy laughing. We make The rafters quake. .....That's it for now. You exhuast me. I really love this by the way. My clever girl, you are like a phone call to the twilight zone.
Re: a comment on Minoan lover by Jeremi B. Handrinos	28-Jan-03/12:34 AM
Tell me Billy-boy, why is it every other reply I get from you contains the word 'jealous'? What exactly makes you jealous? That I'm contemplating other men besides you? Are you becoming possessive? You puzzle me.
Re: The yellow rose of California by INTRANSIT	27-Jan-03/4:16 PM
Terrific, a good strong picture. Thou you need to rethink the first line and make this more personal. Pretend you have seen the flower, it sounds to me like she has touched you with her sad state. Is she me, perhaps? If she is and even if she isn't use what you know of me, or any other woman who fits this discription, to make this richer. Think in precise images. Get rid of 'and' before 'uproot'
Re: The Magical Hairy Chair by Nagi	27-Jan-03/12:32 AM
I was reading random poetry When suddenly one night I came upon the dumbest poem That ever caught my sight Some idiot just prattled on and made no sense at all He thought it funny to write rhymes about hair and genitals. He lead me down the garden path through a churchyard to a cellar He thought with laughter, I would collapse To read how he stroked his 'fella' Well let me tell you one last time I'm sick and tired of reading Of self abuse and penis juice And auto-inflicted beatings you boys are dumb Who speak of bums And Aids and prawns and brownings Stay away, go and get laid You're in serious need of mounting I'm bored of being victimized by your manipulation Practice is the proven cure For pre-mature ejaculation. It's obvious your cock is small No 'Bishop' as you claim your just some stunted acolyte You should be ashamed.
Re: flight (a poem written in high school) by Bill Z Bub	26-Jan-03/12:09 PM
My favorite so far. Quite different fromt he first draft. I love the rhyming, tips/cliffs. Could/earth. Really a first rate poem. Change 'dusty' to something truer, deeper. Something sadder, more poignant.
Re: a comment on Sticks and Stones Farm, Pot Luck Thursday Nights by <~>	25-Jan-03/10:52 PM
I don't know baby, I love it as is but I can see what you mean, she's fat, but she's sexy anyway. Some line break changes maybe, I can't do a thing right now, I'm overwhelmed with the fucking blossoms, I'm hanging my head out the window, literally, it's so fucking beautiful tonight I wish I could share it. It was 80 degrees today and the plants are going crazy. No moon, no breeze, just balmy and so much perfume.
Re: a comment on a poet in the city by Bill Z Bub	25-Jan-03/10:03 PM
Writing is everything. I too have been writing like mad. Crayons and pencils; anything handy, including napkins and junk mail envelopes. The potential is you, bottom line. Tell me a story. I am so hungry for a good story. Poetry has become somewhat a relic. My good sweet William, your heart, your heart is alive with it, so tell me everthing, let's go for a ride. First of all get rid of anything that can not transend For example Kindergarten Computers? Too much yours and yours alone. Anything that has the word 'of ' in it needs to be carefully scrutinized. No ' of's ' if possible. and also should be eliminated "there's nothing to it" is a beautiful line I repeat it to myself like a prayer "Even on the news I look for them Feet up on boxes I am paid to be opening A click through 100 channels Maybe But I doubt it". Write your prose. Give me your sugar.
Re: Why my cock attracts idiots by horus8	25-Jan-03/11:40 AM
You are the unfortunate victim of great looks, great energy, and an intriguing mind. Everybody wants you, it's true, and you have no boundries. You are a PRIEST you just refuse to take your place at the altar. it's so very hard to say no, there's no fun in it. Time to post a poem for you.
Re: Sticks and Stones Farm, Pot Luck Thursday Nights by <~>	24-Jan-03/8:45 AM
Really lovely, a very fine picture can you switch the last two lines around somehow? the second line sounds more like the last note of a sweet sad song.
Re: The Other Side of Me by Quarton	24-Jan-03/12:05 AM
Excellent. Solitude is the poets Eden. A very fine poem, not my cup od tea but beyond rebuke.
Re: a comment on The last day of an old year by poetandknowit	23-Jan-03/11:12 PM
Well than the word must stay. I can't even imagine the grief of your loss. The Mother. My mother was never really much of one, and she is still quite alive. I am my own mother, just as I will assume you are your own father, so I believe i will never actually suffer that loss, but only time will tell. I am such a mother to everyone, constantly, at work at home, so the Mother is always with me. It's difficult enough to grieve over the death of the Father, but the Mother, well that just must be beyond devastating. Oh well, every act has good and evil results, even death. Continue leaning towards the light, glean the truth from the bones of your grief. I, for one, am more interested in these revelations than in any others. You are travelling the road that leads to library were all my favorite books are kept, pick one up off the shelf, read it to me.
Re: a comment on The last day of an old year by poetandknowit	23-Jan-03/4:11 PM
How bittersweet. Death is the seventh veil. We make so much up and add too much importance to it. The dead laugh at us, or so I've read. I'm so sorry I have to go, my son doesn't have a single pair of clean underwear and the washers on the blink. My father died 8 years ago, and i'm barely now able to approach him. He comes for tea, sleeps in my bed. He is a comfort and all the things he couldn't be while existing in this tragic realm. Talk with you later I hope. Kisses on your forehead.
Re: Library and Information Centre by Nicholas Jones	23-Jan-03/3:40 PM
You are oblivious despite yourself. Get more funding.
Re: Snowblind by horus8	23-Jan-03/3:36 PM
Get rid of 'with', change 'find' to 'finds' and then you have it. I feel this in my gut. 10.
Re: a comment on The last day of an old year by poetandknowit	23-Jan-03/3:30 PM
Wonderful if you mean it. As I told Ranger, show me what you see, sketch it out for me, don't tell me how you feel anymore, it's presumptuous, and worst of all , boring. I went to an art exhibit at UCLA last weekend and 90% of the students were horrible hacks because they believed it wasn't necessary to have the fundamental skills to draw something recognizable. I see the same arrogance here at poemranker. If you take a look at PAKI's work as you say you will you'll find the simple ability to make things understood. Also Ornella-in-disguise, hair slicked back wearing an eyebrow-pencil-mustache, finally gets the fucking point a couple of times. Stop trying to run when you can't even let go of the coffee-table without wobbling and falling over. DESCRIBE a THING forget about feeling. They are to intence and you can only start at the very beginning. Tell me what you look like. That is your first exercise. Look in the mirror, look around the room.
Re: The last day of an old year by poetandknowit	23-Jan-03/3:20 PM
This is really deliteful, a good strong edit. My only small complaint is 'abstinence' they arre so young you couldn't mean sexual so ... I'm left wondering. Otherwise flawless, a real pleasure.
Re: The Crutchling by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.	22-Jan-03/9:46 PM
How can anyone deny your genius? You make me laugh so, and the high quality of your musings never ever slips, well actually soem of your little aids things weren't good enough. Probably because you didn't extrapolate(sp?).
Re: a comment on Minoan lover by Jeremi B. Handrinos	22-Jan-03/9:26 PM
Have you got the costume that goes with this soliloquy? I'd cream to see you step of the truck in leather breast-plate and pleated skirt. This is the part were I through my box of popcorn at the screen and walked out. I wrote " I Am the Widow of a Murdered Husband" that night. Mr. Crowe is the spitting image of my beloved's father, no kidding. I loved him in L.A. Confidential, and thought he did a great job with the crap he was given in Beautiful Mind, but this movie is a stinker all around. Foochy!
Re: The Corte de Bleu by GregDeEgg	22-Jan-03/9:12 PM
I lie your style a great deal, once again pictures galore. Thank you for showing and not telling. You write like a novelist.
Re: In This Room by GregDeEgg	22-Jan-03/9:09 PM
Interesting. I like the pictures, there aren't enough around here. The sprite I don't like and the vinyl flames I don't understand. Very modern, very hip.