The Poetry Thread

Started by Greeny, March 01, 2013, 08:18:10 AM

Farrell Jackson

Here's another:

The Quest

He's been invited
To join a mighty quest
Not a journey for the tired
With little time to rest

There's a mountain
To be climbed
Not for the timid
Or weak of mind

It's said the altitude
Will rob one of all senses
There's no room for a weak link
At other's expenses

The Sherpas all look serious
As the others nervously jest
As they look toward the heavens
At the majestic Mt. Everest

On this frozen peak
It's every man for himself             
They all become equal
Not a single thought of wealth

If they are faithful
With God's guiding grasp
Their footing will be solid
Precise, and steadfast

They push onward and upward
Leary of an icy plummet
With one final thrust
They might make the summit                 

He feels the calm and exhilaration
As he conquers with the best
And sits atop the world
On the mighty Mt. Everest

Farrell Jackson © 12-15-10
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Farrell Jackson


Rayon Vert


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Greeny

Quote from: danieldesete on March 02, 2013, 01:27:47 AMGood idea Greeny.
what's the title of your book?

On Amazon but out of print. That's not the title, I might use it as a title for another collection!

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mini-Cab-Bedlam-Tim-Green/dp/190072670X

'Mini Cab to Bedlam' 1997 is the real title.

Greeny

Quote from: SteveB on March 03, 2013, 01:55:45 AMAh, Greeny, weren't the London poetry crowd once described as: '...like Jackals snarling at each other across a dried-up river bed'?

Never heard that before, but I like it. It's a working class thing with me... I just didn't fit the middle class intellectual profile of the corduory-clad f*ckers.

Really LOVED your poem. Right up my street in fact. Observations from the dark underbelly of life.

Greeny

There are already lots of fanastic poems on here. Cheers guys. Keep 'em coming :-)

henwrench

Ok, here's one that started life as a definite poem...

Mommy's eyeshadow
Was the exact same
Shade of peach
Normally reserved
For the underbellies
Of only the biggest
Of slugs
The sort of slug found
Crushed and opened
By the clattering wheels
Of the cheapest scooter
Ridden by the fattest child
Of whom
Through wild piggy tears
And blinking snorting fears
Screams at the shade of
Mommy's eyeshadow

   and ended up being set to music...

     https://songcrafters.org/community/index.php?topic=16586.0


                                                                 henwrench
The job of the artist is to deepen the mystery - Francis Bacon

English by birth, Brummie by the Grace of God

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alfstone

Quote from: Farrell Jackson on March 02, 2013, 09:47:31 AMPost Tenebras Pero Lucem ( After Darkness I Hope For Light)


Farrell Jackson © 11-03-11

Farrell, the poetry is very interesting, but there's a mistake in the title:

Post Tenebras, Spero (not Pero...) Lucem

Ciao

Alfredo







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http://soundcloud.com/alfredo-de-pietra 
http://www.flickr.com/photos/26939208@N03/

Farrell Jackson

Quote from: alfstone on March 06, 2013, 03:04:49 AM
Quote from: Farrell Jackson on March 02, 2013, 09:47:31 AMPost Tenebras Pero Lucem ( After Darkness I Hope For Light)


Farrell Jackson © 11-03-11

Farrell, the poetry is very interesting, but there's a mistake in the title:

Post Tenebras, Spero (not Pero...) Lucem


Ciao

Alfredo

Thanks alfstone...it's now corrected.

Farrell
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Farrell Jackson


Rayon Vert


Test, test, one, two, three.....is this mic on?

thetworegs

#17
Cheater

She was sick and I was weak

she wiped her hands with the linen sheet


As she put her coat on to say goodbye

She said now you will understand why

But I didn't understand a thing

It was then i noticed she had left her ring


It was then I remembered her dirty look

What  dirty rotten luck



To find me naked tied up alone



She never said a single word

Took the hammer and the nail not a word was heard

I held an odd position with my feet

The sheets were as red as bleeding meat
She screamed you dirty rotten cheat




   
If Life is a dream then use your imagination

IanR

Reg,

I know that we are artists and everything..........but isn't this a bit gruesome for Songcrafters?

cheers,

Ian






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SteveB

#19
Art Studies

I have seldom subscribed
To the aerosol notion
That prophets and prelates
Lurk here about subways,
Or frequent the walls
Of a terrified nation
Delivering guidance
Through rejection and paint.

My theory is merely
Borne of experience:
'Angie's a slapper', or
'Robbo is Gay' -
And 'Sid still lives' (apparently),
According to the paint
Sprayed on conviction and
Supermarket doorway.
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