Are there any poets out there?

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  • salymap
    Late member
    • Nov 2010
    • 5969

    Oh thanks, I erroneously thought it might be Lear. It puzzled me as a small child

    Comment

    • agingjb
      Full Member
      • Apr 2007
      • 156

      Yellow?

      There is no rhyme for orange, it is said,
      Though other colour words are much more mellow.
      Purple would be tricky, blue instead?
      But Robert Browning, that most skilful fellow
      Writing couplets, did not use "Sordello"
      As a rhyme word. I'm not feeling keen;
      This verbal cherry's like a sharp Morello.
      It's hard to write exactly what I mean.

      The ballade's verse form, if I'm not misled
      Should be quite perfect, like a Donatello.
      And, sound and meaning harmonised and wed,
      Aspire to music (published by Novello
      Or even suites by J.S.Bach for 'cello).
      Be realistic; this one isn't clean,
      But more like rough and squeaky Punchinello.
      It's hard to say exactly what I mean.

      A ballade if not written is unread,
      As though the Bard had never staged Othello,
      Had kept the tragic sequence in his head.
      But verse for Shakespeare wasn't hard duello
      And I'm in seige before a grim Martello,
      Embattled on an ochre coloured scene.
      I've said this all before, a ritornello?
      It's hard to know exactly what I mean.

      "And now we've reached the envoi", I can bellow.
      And dedicate the lot to Prince or Queen.
      (Let's patronise that vineyard down in Wellow)
      It's hard to think exactly what I mean.

      Comment

      • cloughie
        Full Member
        • Dec 2011
        • 22000

        Donovan said they call it Mellow Yellow, quite rightly.

        As you may know, here in Cornwall we don't like the idea of the Pasty Tax - here is my response in rhyme:

        There’s loopholes in the v a t
        No more hot pasties for you and me
        Unless we find another fifty p
        For Gideon and his treasury.

        Gideon Osborn the chancellor
        Taxes us high and taxes us more
        Taxes the poor to pay the rich
        Taxes hot pasties – life’s a bitch.

        Mugs us all, he never begs
        He taxes Ginsters, taxes Greggs
        Sausage rolls, pies he’ll tax the lot
        Anything that’s vaguely hot.

        Taxing Warrens, Philps and Rowes
        Gideon’s daily gaining foes
        Messing up the Lizard’s business plan
        Taxing the pasties made by Ann

        We’ll take the fight to London Wall
        At number eleven make a call
        Trelawny’s 20000 bold
        Don’t want to eat their pasties cold

        With Devonwall and Pastygate
        You had your chance you’ve sealed your fate
        But you added to our rural woes
        As one by one the bakeries close

        Remember Gideon the old and grey
        Those who on hot pasties taxes pay
        When at the general election
        You’ll feel the weight of our rejection.

        Comment

        • agingjb
          Full Member
          • Apr 2007
          • 156

          A Tribute

          He did not rage, and whether night was good
          Hardly concerned him. A gentle way
          He went. And so with each and every day
          He lived as well and kindly as he could.

          A serious man, but rarely sad or grave,
          Able to tell an unexpected joke
          To entertain his family and folk;
          But, absolutely, he was always brave.

          Where else have we, his friends and family seen
          A cultivation of the encroaching wild
          Enough to render even nature mild?
          His garden tended, guarded, for the green,

          He gave us all, this hope, the perfect right
          To celebrate a lifetime lived in light.

          Comment

          • Hornspieler
            Late Member
            • Sep 2012
            • 1847

            Originally posted by agingjb View Post
            A Tribute

            He did not rage, and whether night was good
            Hardly concerned him. A gentle way
            He went. And so with each and every day
            He lived as well and kindly as he could.

            A serious man, but rarely sad or grave,
            Able to tell an unexpected joke
            To entertain his family and folk;
            But, absolutely, he was always brave.

            Where else have we, his friends and family seen
            A cultivation of the encroaching wild
            Enough to render even nature mild?
            His garden tended, guarded, for the green,

            He gave us all, this hope, the perfect right
            To celebrate a lifetime lived in light.
            A beautifuuly crafted sonnet in the style of John Milton


            More, please!

            Hornspieler

            Comment

            • agingjb
              Full Member
              • Apr 2007
              • 156

              Thank you.

              The tribute is to my late father-in-law, who died aged 97 back in the summer. That sonnet came almost immediately; writing verse usually takes me ages and ends up obscure. The starting point was Dylan Thomas of course.

              Some bits and pieces in various forms, including sonnets, and mostly somewhat inaccessible, are listed here.

              Comment

              • Hornspieler
                Late Member
                • Sep 2012
                • 1847

                Originally posted by agingjb View Post
                Thank you.

                The tribute is to my late father-in-law, who died aged 97 back in the summer. That sonnet came almost immediately; writing verse usually takes me ages and ends up obscure. The starting point was Dylan Thomas of course.

                Some bits and pieces in various forms, including sonnets, and mostly somewhat inaccessible, are listed here.
                Recommended reading.

                HS

                Comment

                • agingjb
                  Full Member
                  • Apr 2007
                  • 156

                  Belated thanks.

                  To encourage the others, I've added two more ("Intervals" and "Pelican Court"] to the list.

                  The forms are (more interesting than the content perhaps):

                  a sequence of four sonnets in abbacddcdefdef form (whatever that is).

                  quatrains with abba rhymes

                  both in pentameters (bit rough in places)
                  Last edited by agingjb; 12-02-13, 11:32.

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