Jaaakkkeee Posted August 15, 2013 Report Share Posted August 15, 2013 Anyone seen this yet? Thoroughly heartbreaking. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moon Moon Posted August 29, 2013 Report Share Posted August 29, 2013 The dwarf with his hands on backwardssat, slumped like a half-filled sackon tiny twisted legs from whichsawdust might run,outside the three tiers of churches builtin honour of St Francis, brotherof the poor, talker with birds, over whomhe had the advantageof not being dead yet. when i first read this poem, i really never understood it. but i've studied it for the last week. i've got to admit i love itA priest explainedhow clever it was of Giottoto make his frescoes tell storiesthat would reveal to the illiterate the goodnessof God and the sufferingof His Son. I understoodthe explanation andthe cleverness.A rush of tourists, clucking contentedly,fluttered after him as he scatteredthe grain of the Word. It was they who had passedthe ruined temple outside, whose eyeswept pus, whose back was higherthan his head, whose lopsided mouthsaid Grazie in a voice as sweetas a child's when she speaks to her motheror a bird's when it spoketo St Francis. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jaaakkkeee Posted August 30, 2013 Report Share Posted August 30, 2013 Anyone seen this yet? Thoroughly heartbreaking. Coming back to this, I'd like to hear a version where the crowd aren't giving it the whole "ooh, ahh. awww." Ruins the atmosphere IMO but still a brilliant performance. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moon Moon Posted January 23, 2014 Report Share Posted January 23, 2014 this thread hasn't been bumped in a while heres another one of my favorites from Norman MacCaig The hospital smellcombs my nostrilsas they go bobbing alonggreen and yellow corridors.What seems a corpseis trundled into a lift and vanishesheavenward.I will not feel, I will notfeel, untilI have to.Nurses walk lightly, swiftly,here and up and down and there,their slender waists miraculouslycarrying their burdenof so much pain, somany deaths, their eyesstill clear afterso many farewells.Ward 7. She liesin a white cave of forgetfulness.A withered handtrembles on its stalk. Eyes movebehind eyelids too heavyto raise. Into an arm wastedof colour a glass fang is fixed,not guzzling but giving.And between her and medistance shrinks till there is none leftbut the distance of pain that neither she nor Ican cross.She smiles a little at thisblack figure in her white cavewho clumsily risesin the round swimming waves of a belland dizzily goes off, growing fainter,not smaller, leaving behind onlybooks that will not be readand fruitless fruits. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
KarmaTsunami Posted January 23, 2014 Report Share Posted January 23, 2014 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ca_gere Posted January 23, 2014 Report Share Posted January 23, 2014 This guy is a friend of a friend whose stuff sometimes crops up in my newsfeed. I think his stuff is ace. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stroopy121 Posted July 9, 2015 Report Share Posted July 9, 2015 I'm fucking obsessed with this guy's work just now: xx Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stroopy121 Posted July 9, 2015 Report Share Posted July 9, 2015 xx Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chris Posted July 9, 2015 Report Share Posted July 9, 2015 Ooh. This thread is interesting (after the first page nonsense). I've been attending a local writers group recently which got me writing poetry for the first time in years. I might post some later (not making any great claims on it's quality mind). In the meantime some of you might like this new magazine which has launched recently in the NE:http://poetsrepublic.org/ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stroopy121 Posted July 9, 2015 Report Share Posted July 9, 2015 Oooh, awesome! Gonna check that out! xx Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stroopy121 Posted July 20, 2015 Report Share Posted July 20, 2015 xx Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Moon Moon Posted July 24, 2015 Report Share Posted July 24, 2015 This is a poem we learned in a training course and it's quite grown on me. It's "the language of us and them" by Mayer Shevin.We like things They fixate on objects We try to make friends They display attention seeking behavior We take breaks They display off task behaviorWe stand up for ourselves They are non-compliantWe have hobbies They self-stimWe choose our friends wisely They display poor peer socializationWe persevere They perseverateWe like people They have dependencies on peopleWe go for a walk They run awayWe insist They tantrumWe change our minds They are disoriented and have short attention spansWe have talents They have splinter skillsWe are human They are . . . ? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chris Posted July 24, 2015 Report Share Posted July 24, 2015 The Poets' Republic are having a launch event tonight at Stonehaven Community Centre, doors 7pm until 10pm with guest poets, free wine and an open mic. http://poetsrepublic.org/ If it goes well they're looking to host similar events in the future. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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