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R J Askew ~ One Swift Summer


Ach, I wld instantly have ceded the title to you if I'd seen your msg here first. I was dithering about doing it. But once I got into the water... w-heeey!

Excuse me, your regal spottyness, you don't, erm, own a *indle do you? 77p gets you bliss in London's *ew Gardens. No?
I thin he's watching me.

Could be worse, he could be on the E.



Manganese and mnemonic must be a nightmare for you to type then! ;-)


Said 'ladybird' turned out to be super-troll Meth Gernod, a shape-shifting NY corporate killer lawyer and poet-stalker.
Meth has been after me for some time.
It was a cage fight. Just one twisted antenna remained of her when yours truly was finshed. But she will be back. Of that I have no doubt.
The Meth Gernods of this world take radical reader involvement to extreme levels.
*bows*

Alas, no. Ms Meth Gernod is far more fixated in her crazed quest to steal the mead of poetry from this poor cup-bearer than ... than ... No comparison suffices to capture her Phelpsian single-mindedness!

Yesssssssss, THAT! worked. Words a-swirling again!

You remind me of a fave line of mine in Cream's WHITE ROOM .. the tired starlings have always intrigued me
In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.
Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGZeqw...

A GIVING ART
Each one who gives will goodness win
For all who give and give a gain
Create again this universe
This art alive in which we are
A vein of love alive in this
Eternity of love surrounds
A love within a love without
Each breath, each beat, each mote of life
A gain! a gain! in beauty's vein
We pulse in goodness given free
To give a gain to fully be
We give again a gain to win
This art is at the heart of life
We love .. to give new hope a way
Inspired by a story I read on kindle. Will review said story in next few days.

Foulmouth Frankie, a monster from the north of England. He pulls no punches.

THE HAND OF MAN
My name was Michaelangelo'
Life's art through me did flow.
O how these hands of mine did toil!
To fashion beauty royal,
From heart, to head, to eye, to hand,
To touch, to understand,
To feel, with busy fingers true,
This life in marble you.
Blue veins of life in you I feel,
A-pulsing artful real.
My fingers listen to your soul,
O how you crave to chyme!
There is a magic in this touch
Too much! it is too much.
For me to raise you into life...
This magic is a curse!
Then I am but your conduit,
Canal into this world.
These hands of mine are not my own.
Possessed by you... I touch...
My finger tips inside your soul...
I touch your primal form.
And paint your fingers in the sky,
A-reaching through this eye.
Is that your touch a-touching mine?
Are you a Florentine?
O how I hate these hands of mine!
In pain my work they sign.
And yet... There is a Joy in this,
A magic in this touch...
My hand inside the soul of God
My hand in his alive.
This touch of mine I don't believe,
And yet... I feel it's true.
My name is Michealangelo,
And I'm alive in you.
The marble of my life you are,
My breath ... of Nature true

A HOUSE CALLED NIRVANA
Buy me, o so buy me! buyme,buyme,buyme,buyme,BUYME!
You know you want to
Yeah, I know, I know, I'm all beat up
But, hey! I got back up again
Give a house a chance, guys!
... beating heart, I swear
Rock on foundations
Check 'em out, deeper than deep
Gimme a chance, dudes
Best cellar in Iowa
You could live here! I know y'could, just know it
Look who's smiling at ya!
Nirvana, yep's m'name maam, a house called Nirvana!
Yours, I'm all yours!
...do my bit, you do yours
Love's the paint, love's the tiles, love's the putty round the panes
Press your ear to my soul
...sound of Baby LaVon a-Christmas eve, you a-strummin' y'strad', hear in Nirvana

A GIVING ART
Each one who gives will goodness win
For all who give and give a gain
Crea..."
Lovely pome, Ron. What was the book which inspired it? :-)
Come on, you can tell me.

Would you like the original? I wrote it more or less straight off, though I tweaked the last two lines, so it is quite presentable. Or perhaps I cld write out a clean copy. Will be happy to send you both.
You then put it on e-bay, or some such. Set a very high reserve price. See what happens. Bang the drum. Poets for charity. Invite the great and rich (not necessarily good) to bid. Might work. There must be some rich hedge fund managers who have lost someone to pancreatic cancer. What's $10,000 dollars to such a person? They wld prob try and get a tax break on such giving anyway! But if you get a chunky cheque who cares? And I get a profile boost!
I was thinking about the theory of giving in a creative context. Your book clarified my thoughts and so the poem definitely sprang from the reality of your walk.
Must get my porridge now!
Ron

Would you like the original? I wrote it more or less straight off, though I tweaked the last two lines, so it is quite presentable. Or perhaps I cld write out a clean copy. Will be happy ..."
Hello Ron
I would like to hear the spoken version. Are you thinking of doing that?
Vic

Would you like the original? I wrote it more or less straight off, though I tweaked the last two lines, so it is quite presentable. Or perhaps I cld write out a clean copy. Will be happy ..."
Sorry Ron
Not ignoring your eBay idea. It could work. Nothing to lose, is there?
There is a snag, though. Because I live in France, eBay will only let me be on eBay.fr. Your idea should be done in UK. Which means you or some other kind person from the forum doing it.
And what would make it work is publicity. If we could interest the radio or tv in it - and it is novel enough to possibly attract their attention - it could fly. Radio 4 PM, perhaps, or The One Show on TV (is that running at the moment?) could attract the right amount of interest.

We receive poems, are conduits, often alone, lost, confused. The 'they' here are all who seek so hard they miss all. The 'we' are the poetic primes of the universe all around us. The Jack of Duds is the poet experiencing a blessed moment of magical revelation.
BE SECRET AND EXULT
We are the code they seek to crack
Beyond, behind, above, below
We are without* intelligence
In primacy supreme we chyme
With otherness we deftly rhyme
Instinctuality alive
We show ourselves but now are gone
You can but breathe and sense us pass
Alone you are, alone, alone
Our conduit corporeal
You are so feeble in your form
O Jack of Duds, lost in the woods
Be secret and exult with us
We are the code they'll never crack
* without = outside

ALEXANDRA NASCIMENTO
Wing-tip-woman hovers artly
Darts inside in twisting shimmer
Rising, feinting, shooting goalwards
Ball in hand in blur of brill'yance
Brazil! Brazil! fans-a-screaming
Alexandra! Nascimento!
Nets a goal against An-go-laaaaaaaa!
.
Alexandra Nascimento!
Wing-tip-woman flying wonder
Hear the crowd for you a-thunder
London's Copper-Box-a-rocks you
.
Faster! faster! rising higher!
Shooting through the eye of Ni'ke
Nascimento nets for vict'ry
.
Here she is ydy with the Angola team in the background and a second pic from an earlier game - agency pics: http://media.zenfs.com/en_GB/Sports/E...
http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl...

:-)"
Not as yet. But I am sure there will be in
a few years.


Hang on, just adjusting my mad-as-a-hatter light gun in your direction. Ready? Finger on trigger here. Make sure there are no hot liquids nearby or alcoholic liquids in tall glasses as THIS light stuff has been know to cause spontaneous dancing and, at the very least, fits of inexplicable giggling. All for no reason other than that we are, erm, alive n crackers! *bows*
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MY EARTH ART YOU
Your Moon am I, my Earth art you
My everything encased in blue
For I was once all one with you
O how our parting I do rue!
For all I am I am from you
O how you hold me fast and true!
For you're my one, though we are two
Around I go without ado
For you, o you! o what a view!
O Earth! I'm nothing without you
So beautiful, you are so blue
I'll orbit you without adieu
Your Moon am I, my Earth art you
My heart you are, my love, so blue
*bows*