#poem

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BarbChamberlain

"Sometimes I remember,
I am one of everybody."

From "Everybody" by Marie Sheppard Williams
americanlifeinpoetry.org/colum (which is also a poem about the encounters we have at transit stops)

#poetry #poem #poems #PoemADay #TodaysPoem #community #MarieSheppardWilliams #transit

Apr 23, 2025, 13:59 · · 1 · 0
Jester

There once was an old man of Esser,
Whose knowledge grew lesser and lesser,
It at last grew so small
He knew nothing at all,
And now he's a college professor.

#jokes #limerick #funny #poem #humour #joke

Apr 23, 2025, 12:05 · · 2 · 0
stgreenie

Living on the edge of oblivion
Marginal Man exists

Content in his fringe obscurity
yet the feeling persists

He could be a player
if he ever chose to make a play
and conquered the fearful uncertainty
that his life choices
may not always go his way

All these consequences unforeseen

Impediments lurking in the darkness
fueling current sputtering hesitations

While the Earth spins relentlessly

Rampaging through the galaxy

Time is the true enemy

Tossing aside those
who will not commit
to the natural force of gravity

Marginal Man
you best get
with the frickin program

Make a damn action #plan

Dig in and take a firm stand
and for once get committed
before you and your paralysis
permanently plummet
your future happiness
into the abyss of indecision
where so many of us fools
have taken up residence
lamenting our "could have beens"

#vss365 #poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 23, 2025, 11:43 · · 0 · 0
stgreenie

Misty with the pretty smile
and attached perfect body
is now second in command
under the big boss man

Her fast track #promotion
is causing quite a commotion
from those consumed by envy
casting shade on her qualifications

What they fail to see
are the intangibles she brings
under the table

#vss365 #poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 22, 2025, 22:04 · · 0 · 0
Sonnet a Day

Sonnet 128 - CXXVIII
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap,
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled, they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.

bot by @davidaugust

#sonnet #poem #Shakespeare

Apr 23, 2025, 11:25 · · 1 · 0
Assoc for Scottish Literature

There was this king sitted in his garden all alane
When his brother in his ear poured a little bit o’ henbane,
Stole his brother’s crown and his money and his widow;
But the dead king walked and got his son and said, “Hey listen, kiddo…”

—Adam McNaughtan, “Oor Hamlet”: a tragedy in 3 minutes

Adam McNaughtan sings “Oor Hamlet”:
youtube.com/watch?v=nPclD-m64T

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #song #drama #tragedy #Hamlet #humour #Shakespeare #ShakespeareDay

Oor Hamlet Adam McNaughtan There was this king sitted in his garden all alane When his brother in his ear poured a little bit o’ henbane, Stole his brother’s crown and his money and his widow; But the dead king walked and got his son and said, “Hey listen, kiddo, I’ve been killed and it’s your duty to take revenge on Claudius. You kill him quick an’ clean an’ tell the nation what a fraud he is.” The kid said, “Right, I’ll do it, but I’ll have to play it crafty, So that no-one will suspect me, I’ll kid on that I’m a dafty.” So with all except Horatio—and he counts him as a friend— Hamlet, that’s the kid, he kids on, he’s round the bend, And because he isn’t ready for obligatory killin’ He tries to make the king think that he’s tuppence of the shillin’. Takes a rise out of Polonius, treats poor Ophelia vile, Tells Rosencrantz an’ Guildenstern Denmark’s a bleedin’ gaol. Then a group of travelling actors, like 7:84, Arrived to do a special one-night gig in Elsinore. Hamlet! Hamlet! Actin’ barmy! Hamlet! Hamlet! Loves his mammy! Hamlet! Hamlet! Hesitating, Wonders if the ghost’s a cheat And that is why he’s waiting.
So Hamlet wrote a scene for the players to enact So Horatio and him could watch to see if Claudius cracked. Now the play was called “The Mousetrap”—not the one that’s running now— And sure enough, the king walks out before the final bow. So Hamlet’s got the proof that Claudius gave his dad the dose, The only problem being now that Claudius knows he knows. So while Hamlet tells his mother her new husband’s not a fit one, Uncle Claude puts out a contract with the English king as hit-man. So when Hamlet killed Polonius, the concealed corpus delicti Was the king’s excuse to send him for an English hempen necktie, With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to make quite sure he got there, But Hamlet jumped the boat and put the finger straight on that pair. When Laertes heard his dad had been stabbed through the arras. He came runnin’ back to Elsinore tout suite hot-foot from Paris, And Ophelia with her dad killed by the man she was to marry— After saying it with flowers she committed hari-kari. Hamlet! Hamlet! No messin’! Hamlet! Hamlet! Learned his lesson! Hamlet! Hamlet! Yorick’s crust Convinced him that men, good or bad, At last must come to dust.
Then Laertes lost his place and was demanding retribution, The king says, “Keep your head and I’ll provide you a solution.” So he arranged a swordfight for the interested parties, With a blunted sword for Hamlet and a sharp sword for Laertes. To make double sure—the old belt’n’braces line— He fixed a poisoned sword-tip and a poisoned cup of wine. Well the poisoned sword got Hamlet but Laertes went an’ muffed it ’Cause he got stabbed himself and he confessed before he snuffed it. Then Hamlet’s mammy drank the wine and as her face turned blue, Hamlet said, “I believe the king’s a baddie through and through.” “Incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,” he said, to be precise And made up for hesitating once by killing Claudius twice. ’Cause he stabbed him with the knife and forced the wine between his lips, He said, “The rest is silence!”—that was, Hamlet had his chips. They fired a volley over him that shook the topmost rafters, Then Fortinbras, knee-deep in Danes, lived happy ever after. Hamlet! Hamlet! All that gory! Hamlet! Hamlet! End of story! Hamlet! Hamlet! I’m on my way! If you thought that was boring You should read the bloody play.
Apr 23, 2025, 11:12 · · 2 · 0
Assoc for Scottish Literature

For William Shakespeare’s (probable) birthday:

“This single poem gets, via the heart of all theatre, to the heart of the communal in all the arts, and to the heart of form, the heart of voice and silence and to the heart of a kind of life that will never actually stop.”

—Ali Smith, on “Instructions to an Actor”, by Edwin Morgan

A recording of Ian McKellen reading ‘Instructions to an Actor’ in July 1979:

tumblr.com/catullus101/6535243

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Shakespeare #acting #drama

Edwin Morgan Instructions to an Actor Now, boy, remember this is the great scene. You’ll stand on a pedestal behind a curtain, the curtain will be drawn, and then you don’t move for eighty lines; don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’ll stun them all out there, I’ll scare them, make them weep, but it depends on you. I warn you eighty lines is a long time, but you don’t breathe, you’re dead, you’re a dead queen, a statue, you’re dead as stone, new-carved, new-painted and the paint not dry – we’ll get some red to keep your lip shining – and you’re a mature woman, you’ve got dignity, some beauty still in middle age, and you’re kind and true, but you’re dead, your husband thinks you’re dead, the audience thinks you’re dead, and you don’t breathe, boy, I say you don’t even blink for eighty lines, if you blink you’re out! Fix your eye on something and keep watching it.
Practise when you get home. It can be done. And you move at last – music’s the cue. When you hear a mysterious solemn jangle of instruments, make yourself ready. Five lines more, you can lift a hand. It may tingle a bit, but lift it – slow, slow – O this is where I hit them right between the eyes, I’ve got them now – I’m making the dead walk – you move a foot, slow, steady, down, you guard your balance in case you’re stiff, you move, you step down, down from the pedestal, control your skirt with one hand, the other hand you now hold out – O this will melt their hearts if nothing does – to your husband who wronged you long ago and hesitates in amazement to believe you are alive. Finally he embraces you, and there’s nothing I can give you to say, boy, but you must show that you have forgiven him. Forgiveness, that’s the thing. It’s like a second life. I know you can do it. – Right then, shall we try?
Apr 23, 2025, 10:47 · · 3 · 0
stgreenie

When we
can't talk
it out
we fight it out

This is how
we operate

Break out the high tech
death dispensers

War machine
can be expensive
so
it's always
gearing up
for another
round of
destruction
now done
with great
precision
so our crusades
are now
cost effective

#vss365 #poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 20, 2025, 23:43 · · 0 · 0
stgreenie

When the stars
began to pixalate
the serious realization hit
that we were all trapped
within a glitch
of the space/time continuum

Somehow our Universe ripped
and unless we can quickly repair
this torn celestial fabric
outside dimensional elements
are going to begin seeping in

Some dangerous shit

Anyone got a sewing kit?

#poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 23, 2025, 02:30 · · 0 · 0
KIAIKIAI555

© KOJI ARAKI Art Works
Daily life and every small thing is the gate to the universe
：）
#Adobe #Fresco #AdobeFresco #poem #original
#koji #araki #art #works #KojiArakiArtWorks
#kojiarakiartworks.com

Apr 23, 2025, 01:28 · · 1 · 0
libramoon

Oh, the Humanity

Just what is humanity?
Not so much those noble qualities
we aspire to, mythologize,
like kindness,
Heroes that inspire,
a sacred trust to provide for
those in need.
No, it seems we get lost, caught
up in fantasized desires
we gladly forsake [foreswear?]
our fairer angels to acquire

#poem

Apr 22, 2025, 22:05 · · 0 · 0
stgreenie

In the 21st Century
the key to happiness
is to disconnect
all sense of embarrassment
from your conciousness

Once you achieve
perfect reality detachment
this encasement of obliviousness
will shield your zombie ass
from any fact checking distractions

Perfect for dead eyed cultists

#poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 22, 2025, 21:40 · · 0 · 0
stgreenie

You are not as messed up
as you think you be
when your personal issues
are stink test measured
against the vast spectrum
of public insanity
we all reside in currently

#poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 21, 2025, 14:10 · · 0 · 0
stgreenie

Divinity can be found
in a spider
patiently
spinning it's silky web

Hell can be found
in a fly's
desperate
death struggle
to escape
this same pious cathedral

Perspective
is in the eyes
of the beholder

Truth custom fit
to the perceptions
we wear

Even when
they hurt

#inkmine #poetry #poem #amwriting

Apr 22, 2025, 17:19 · · 0 · 0
Assoc for Scottish Literature

dear small daughter for a long time I did not write
what had already become past-tense was past-tense
and I am sorry I was not able to hold it as one might
in a dream hold a stream of water and sing it to sleep…

—Sheila Black, “Climate (7) (Past Tense)”
published in BREAK IN CASE OF SILENCE: New Writing Scotland 39 (ASL, 2021)

asls.org.uk/publications/books

#Scottish #literature #poetry #poem #EarthDay #EarthDay2025

Sheila Black Climate (7) (Past Tense) dear small daughter for a long time I did not write what had already become past-tense was past-tense and I am sorry I was not able to hold it as one might in a dream hold a stream of water and sing it to sleep and I am sorry that I told you this image as if it were in truth perdurable plangent and constant moon over our seas when it is the shifting that matters. dear small the birds the mockingbirds they sang in the middle of the night and for this we cursed them but then we came upon their nests in the black of day noon when the sun is a diamond burning through however much blue and the two of them circled so tirelessly with their wings fanning the turquoise eggs inside the nest of dead grass and we understood we were not the only ones but even this could not stop us from doing as we had done all our lives long and the cars we pulled out of driveways and the highways that took us into the buzzing electric of buildings poured in dense concrete and the cooling chemicals seeping and cycling as though through calm artificial hearts and outside unnoticed the ghost-blue of juniper needle and berry and the ghost-rising of smoke from the fires we claimed we had not set. dear daughter now that we must use the past-tense for what we thought was ours now as we move into the possible distance I open my hand to give you this picture of two wings.
Apr 22, 2025, 16:04 · · 3 · 0

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