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Weekly Poetry Stuffage > Week 137 (September 9-16) Poems Topic: London fog

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message 1: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments :D


message 2: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments (faints.)


message 3: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Kat, you certainly type well for someone who has fainted.


message 4: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Hahahaha XD *sigh* that was good XD


message 5: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Al. I love it. Very perfect.


message 6: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments My lips are sealed :D


message 7: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments *wink*


message 8: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Beautiful, Alex! It is perfect indeed! And well done, writing poems/sketching in class is an art in itself :)


message 9: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Alex, I just saw your poem “The Coat.” It’s so lonely! The writing is very effective, the approach inventive. I love the description: “next to the mirror and the rack / where you keep all your umbrellas and keys.” This is the only poem I’ve read in which the speaker is a coat.


message 10: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Oh, yes! I think it’s lovely.


message 11: by M (last edited Sep 12, 2012 11:11AM) (new)

M | 11047 comments After the Board Meeting


“London Fog” smirked up at me
from stitching on a square label.
I glanced around uneasily.
Her purse was on the hall table.

Her trench coat lay inside the door,
a crumpled heap. Nearby, a shoe,
a ravishing, high-heeled Dior
sneered in a shade of midnight blue.

The board meeting had run so late
I hadn’t left till after dark.
In plush carpet lay the shoe’s mate,
its heel up like a question mark.

I paused and looked down at her blouse,
the skirt that had slid from her hips.
What victims could she not arouse
with those curvaceous legs, those lips?

My heart was beating in my ears.
My throat scratched, but I didn’t cough.
On further lay her ultra-sheers
as though she had just peeled them off.

I felt a growing sense of doom.
But what, I thought, was there to fear?
The clothes trail led to the bedroom,
ending with a flung-off brassiere.

Some man had helped her out of those!
I rushed in, rolling up my cuff.
Awakened, among the pillows,
she smiled: “It took you long enough.”


message 12: by Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (last edited Sep 12, 2012 11:59AM) (new)

Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (christa-ronpaul2012) | 1365 comments Al, I loved your poem "The Caot". I love poems told from the view of something mundane and lifeless.

M your poem was vivid and sad. I liked this line the best

"In plush carpet lay the shoe’s mate,
its heel up like a question mark."

It was really imaginative.


Here is mine

My Lost City

Through the fog in my mind I am unable to see
London, oh London, city of my dreams

I looked upon a city, covered in a layer of mist
From a far off mountain top, thus did I wish
Little lights twinkled, like stars down below
Lamps of flame, faces a glow

I would like to reach that city
But what is thy name?
You haunt my sleep
But where do you lay?

There is a river I can tell
The gurgle of water whispers to me tales.
But even that is shrouded in fog
And I might be mistaken, it could be a bog.

Music and laughter from the smoke emerge
Early morning touching the gray cloudy blur
Sparkling droplets of water alight
Upon every building and chase away the night.

All is still now and I know the end is near
Morning light reaches the city I fear
Down my cheek rolls a fat tear
My vision is too soon over, or so I do feel

London, oh London, heavily on my heart to you lie
Shall I ever see you, in the short time, before I die


message 13: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Wow, M! I loved every single detail in this poem. The ending couldn't have been better, and what a tone it sets! The poem gets better with subsequent reads. Along with Alex's poem, you have set a strong benchmark this week.


message 14: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Thank you, Ajay! I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Christa, “My Lost City” is loaded with atmosphere! I like “The gurgle of water whispers to me tales.”


message 15: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Wow, guys, great poems!


message 16: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Well done, Christa! Agree with M on the atmosphere.


message 17: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Thank you, Kat!


message 18: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments You're welcome M :D


Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (christa-ronpaul2012) | 1365 comments Thank M and Ajay.


message 20: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments I was afraid I was going to have to walk the plank. Whew!


message 21: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Oh, you haven’t found out yet . . .


message 22: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments They were very good.


message 23: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Hmm. You must not have looked in your drawer. I just happened to stop by the gourmet supply place. The girl looked lonesome, so I bought a couple of pounds. They’re very fresh, and I could barely fit it all in there.


message 24: by M (last edited Sep 13, 2012 04:24AM) (new)

M | 11047 comments I can’t type when I’m laughing. Don’t you dare delete that!


message 25: by Hanzleberry (new)

Hanzleberry (doughboyissweet) | 1065 comments Heh? :/
Disturbing.


message 26: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments M! Stop deleting things!


message 27: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Yes, ma’am.


message 28: by Roshan (new)

Roshan Ahmed Hi, this is Roshan here. Here's my first poem in this forum.

Lost souls

The fog is what you see
but, is that what they really are?
The city snug tight in its blanket,
but what then, of their touch that chills?
You cut through them to reach the end,
but they sneak through you, in search of one.
Two destinations, stranded passengers,
how similar our worlds.
You see the fog. They see us.

-Roshan
12th Sept 2012


message 29: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Wow, that's really good :D I like it. It has a sense of whimsy.


message 30: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Hahaha XD I can't stop laughing XD


message 31: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments I’m afraid to laugh. What did I do? I reposted what I took down (#42).


message 32: by M (last edited Sep 13, 2012 03:20PM) (new)

M | 11047 comments Something mysterious is going on in Roshan’s “Lost souls.” Who is it that sees us when we see nothing but the fog? This would make a good story!


message 33: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Well done, Roshan! Like I said earlier, the poem is very effective and the description is vivid. Thanks for trusting my word and taking the plunge. Welcome to the W.S.S!

Guys, I've brought a new pirate to our ship. Roshan is both a friend and colleague of mine.


message 34: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Welcome, Roshan! Ajay will show you the armory. I’ve got the key to the rum cabinet.


message 35: by Ajay (last edited Sep 13, 2012 03:25PM) (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Here's mine for this week. Fog isn't the central theme, but it has been cast in a cameo role.


Mastering the act of chewing dawn

Easy to chew what dawn brings to the table,
more so from a craning porch. So I tune into the radio
and settle into my couch, drumming my right temple.

White noise from a suspended radio station greets me,
which isn't my favorite sound track anymore.
Hence, I spoil myself with this cushy quilt of a thought,
something I understand as white poise.

Poise as in, the spiky curvy icicles. White as in,
the plotting fog. White poise as in, the flaky snow.

The bickering kettle delivers a piping cup of clean sparkle,
and I use it to stoke the soft ore of my Earl Grey.
I am all set now, and with only a slight rush, the cloak lifts.

Blends of see-through colors smear the blue slate above,
looking as cute as a little girl's crayon sketch.

The wickless candle man plays his part, kissing the sinews
of the icicles, thus releasing them from the wooden planks.
They are reborn into tiny streams, irrigating the blushing
meadows, also plumbing the underground burrows.

Never mind the fog, it has retired for the day,
snaking into the craters of the thinning orb.
The cadence humbles the snow, and their tears
escape through wispy mists which curl about.

The dawn does not impose, it sculpts.

Here I sit, chewing dawn, refilling my cup,
waiting to digest dusk, drumming my left temple.

Ajay Nagaraju
13th Sept, 2012


message 36: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments My first impression on reading “Mastering the act of chewing dawn” is that it’s like something by T. S. Eliot, though in a different life. “The wickless candle man” is pure word magic. I’ve never heard the sun described that way! “Never mind the fog, it has retired for the day . . .” This is spectacular writing.


message 37: by Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (last edited Sep 14, 2012 02:01PM) (new)

Christa - Ron Paul 2016 (christa-ronpaul2012) | 1365 comments Ajay your poem was amazing. Everything was so colorful I felt like I was actually there, watching a magical sunrise.


message 38: by M (new)

M | 11047 comments Alex (Al) wrote: “Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

anyway.”


Good night, pirates! May you have the kind of dreams that demand a story be written about them.


message 39: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Thank you, M! That's the greatest compliment that I've ever received, period! Your message is going to be spur me on for sure! :)

Thank you, Alex! The feeling is mutual! I feel the same way about your writing.

Thank you, Christa! I am really glad that you felt that way. This poem was inspired by the several early sunrises which I was fortunate to witness in the English country-side. It excited me so much that I made it a point never to miss it. A small group of us used to take a walk along the Quay side just to watch the sunrise. I ll try and post some photographs.


message 40: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments Ajay, that poem is amazing!


message 41: by Ajay (new)

Ajay (ajay_n) | 1135 comments Thank you, Kat! I am glad you liked it!


message 42: by Caitlan (new)

Caitlan (lionesserampant) | 2869 comments You're very welcome :D


message 43: by Niamh (new)

Niamh (njones) That is a great poem, I especially liked the line ' The city snug tight in its blanket'. It gave me a mental picture of a grey building wrapped in a pink fluffy blanket. You also finished it off really well.


message 44: by Niamh (new)

Niamh (njones) Hi, this is the first poem I have written for this group so it might not be very good.



Title: Over the Morning Fog

Plop! A water droplet hits the ground,
drains through the grey stone pavement.
It’s shape a perfect round,
the sun rises over the London fog.

A figure appears around the corner,
creeping through the London streets.
With a sense of grandeur.
the sun rises over the London fog.

The people of the street begin to wake,
open curtains and switch on lights.
Without waiting for the morning to break,
the sun rises over the London fog.



Thank you for reading my poem,

Niamh


message 45: by Paula Tohline (new)

Paula Tohline Calhoun (paulatohlinecalhoun) | 493 comments Alex (Al) wrote: "Your Coat
by Al

I am the coat that hangs on the wall
just below the ceiling,
next to the mirror and the rack
where you keep all your umbrellas and keys.
I am the coat that you wear when it rains
o..."


An extraordinary poem, written beautifully - with a great rhythm and flow - it is not in the least a manufactured or artificial rhythm. I am impressed with the writing and the handling of the subject! Beautiful!


message 46: by Paula Tohline (new)

Paula Tohline Calhoun (paulatohlinecalhoun) | 493 comments M wrote: "After the Board Meeting


“London Fog” smirked up at me
from stitching on a square label.
I glanced around uneasily.
Her purse was on the hall table.

Her trench coat lay inside the door,
a crumple..."


Very well done, indeed! Excellent.


message 47: by Paula Tohline (last edited Sep 16, 2012 10:07AM) (new)

Paula Tohline Calhoun (paulatohlinecalhoun) | 493 comments Christa - Ron Paul 2012 wrote: "Al, I loved your poem "The Caot". I love poems told from the view of something mundane and lifeless.

M your poem was vivid and sad. I liked this line the best

"In plush carpet lay the shoe’s ma..."


Lovely "Bucket List" poem that conveys the wistfulness of dreams unfulfilled. As usual, you did an excellent job! I'm hoping to get mine in before the wire.

Those of you who didn't read my comment on last week's poll - here is the explanation of why I've been out of touch -

http://paulatohlinecalhoun1951.wordpr...

All of the London Fog poems are terrific. This is an especially good week! (Not sure now I want to add mine and spoil it all.)


message 48: by Paula Tohline (last edited Sep 16, 2012 12:09PM) (new)

Paula Tohline Calhoun (paulatohlinecalhoun) | 493 comments Such as it is, here it is, a true first draft!


A Cloud By Any Other Name

How long ago, I don't recall -
but I was still quite young -
when I dreamed that I could rest on
the clouds that sailed above me.

So innocent was I to think
the clouds invited me
to lay myself within their tufts,
could I but rise to meet them.

So when I heard that clouds themselves
would sometimes condescend
to settle down in London town
I longed instead to lie there.

Later still, I came to know
such visits were not rare -
clouds outside that royal city
often drifted down below.

Those clouds came incognito,
disguised themselves as fog.
Many times I'd felt them kiss me,
moistened lips upon my face.

And I had known the child-like joy
imagination brings -
on London fogs or fallen clouds
content, I sailed along.

My childish dreams abandoned me,
when I ceased to believe
that foggy days were magical
and clouds called me by name.

I wander through the damp, dank streets
the sunlight fails to reach.
What once I'd called a cloud's caress
now chills me to the bone.

There's no price I would not pay now
to be again the dreamer.
Knowledge is not always wisdom.
Clouds aren't just for the rain.


message 49: by M (last edited Sep 16, 2012 01:58PM) (new)

M | 11047 comments Niamh’s “Over the Morning Fog” is like a little acrylic sketch in words. Very nice! I like the refrain “the sun rises over the London Fog.”

Paula, I followed the link. I’m glad you and your husband are okay! You never know when something like that is going to happen.

“A Cloud By Any Other Name” has a lot of atmosphere. I particularly like the lines “Those clouds came incognito, / disguised themselves as fog.” A child’s unspoiled way of apprehending the world can make the world seem magical and warm, but when the poem’s speaker finds herself deserted by her “childish dreams,” the dampness can do nothing but chill.


message 50: by Paula Tohline (new)

Paula Tohline Calhoun (paulatohlinecalhoun) | 493 comments Ajay wrote: "Here's mine for this week. Fog isn't the central theme, but it has been cast in a cameo role.


Mastering the act of chewing dawn

Easy to chew what dawn brings to the table,
more so from a crani..."


Exquisite, Ajay! Bravo!


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