posted
I assumed you were speaking metaphorically, as you've never suggested here that you were dating. Were you not?
Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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What? Poems? Did you say poems make you happy? ... But, I can DO that! Could it possibly really be that easy? ... Words Spill out, Tripping tumbling one on top of the other ... Eager, Goofy, Giddily stupidly vying to try and please you. ... Wrong! Tricksy! Now I'm surely simply just trying to fool me ... Into Thinking Life could conceivably ever really rahulme ... That You could Tolerate, or LIKE even, this crazy memetic infection ... Or ever Stand up to The full firehose blast of my affection. ... ... ... .........apoiojfhdahkrleksjrhkljh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ... ... ... So... Mets. What chance do you think they have at the pennant?
[ August 13, 2004, 06:19 AM: Message edited by: ak ]
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No. I'm just curious, and you're being coy. I figure that if you didn't actually want us to ask, you wouldn't be acting coy in the first place.
Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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Okay. Clearly, fallow has obtained Anne Kate's password. If she's still alive, and he hasn't horribly mutilated her body in some way, I'd imagine that he's got her locked up in a basement somewhere. A rescue mission may be necessary.
Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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Hugs all around But the best ones are still the real ones.
So enlighten us you evil pranksters! What romance has been budding on Hatrack Chat? Is love in the air, or is it just another game?
And where did all the poets go? Yaay for Anne Kate for reviving the thread! *goes off, scribbling some baby-related verse* Tom?
Posts: 1777 | Registered: Jan 2003
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Now crawl into the lap of Uncle Grisha And read a story All about a tree And about a boy.
About some gifts of fruit Of limbs and branches A trunk A stump The sun, and a quiet joy.
Fast forward now, to Volemak the man, A vision pointing towards the promised land. Melted, his iron, into a silken rope, Leading again to that one white tree of hope.
No higher exaltation could there be Than to eat ... From your hand The fruit ... Of that tree.
[ August 10, 2004, 06:42 PM: Message edited by: ak ]
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Still not following. Sorry. (Edit: I mean, I THINK I get the references, but not remotely how they'd apply to what you say you're talking about. *grin*)
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I'm trying to introduce them to you. They are Grisha and Rahul. Grisha and Rahul, meet Tom. Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago!
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Here's something I wrote about working a shift just after I got back from Kamacon. It's post-partum depression.
I don't walk that way anymore, no. Now I sit in silence with my hands over my mouth watching the door and thinking as best I can about the things I can no longer do and the places I can no longer go.
I miss the voices and eyes already.
And I'm stringing myself along, thinking though I don't want to go on thinking. Blinking though my eyes want to stay closed. So I shoot my veins full of colors... Drop into my soul the insidious poison.
Much as I hate it, it works.
There's a deluge though I'm blinded, hidden away in a bolt-hole that shines with lines on my TV screen. A crick in my neck and the memory, clothes on the floor that I wore.
Faces pass in my mind.
An hour left to go, before another drive separates me from another home. Not one nearly so long. And maybe someday I'll be there again. With names and faces and blurs around me.
Home among strangers.
(Keep in mind, I've slept a grand total of four hours in the last twenty-four. I'm running on coffee, duct tape and hope, so my poetry might not be great...)
Posts: 4816 | Registered: Apr 2003
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You guys aren't strangers, to me, though. You are my family. I'm not one of those with threespace bias. I live here at Hatrack, in cyberspace.
Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago!
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Tom, speaking of the divide between three- and cyberspaces, I understand you met one of my fiances this weekend. I hope you found him suitably corporeal for your satisfaction. I understand you gave us your blessing and for that I am delighted and grateful! The other one is going to be hard to get into crowds. You guys may just have to take our word for it that he exists. <goofy grin>
The latest brand new one seems to like a bit of attention and so I'm sure he'll soon be here posting like mad, and you'll be able to learn of him directly from the jorge's mouth, so to speak. I expect you'll approve of him highly as well.
<---lucky!!!!
[ August 17, 2004, 01:33 PM: Message edited by: ak ]
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Since he IS adorable, clever, smart, funny, and interesting, and since he does seem to enjoy attention, I take the liberty of linking to his journal, for those who are interested. Maybe you guys can get him making more frequent updates! I sure hope so! Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago!
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quote: No. That's like saying people should try reading the hug thread.
Why do people keep thinking this? The correlation between the two is almost non-existent. I think two people from chat post on the hug thread.
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<Wonders why Tom would think her polyandrous engagement is fictional, but oh well, is too happy to care> Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago!
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<<<<sveta>>>> I don't blame you at all for being jealous, darling! Any girl in the universe would be jealous of me right now. I still can't believe my insane luck! (Not because I'm engaged to 3 guys but because I'm engaged to THESE three guys!) I feel like I won 10 lotteries back to back, and then my hot water kettle dropped 10 degrees in temperature and jumped a foot in the air.
You know what? I wonder if there's some sort of infinite improbability field working around here somewhere. That would explain it!
[ August 17, 2004, 03:28 PM: Message edited by: ak ]
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"Wonders why Tom would think her polyandrous engagement is fictional"
Well, um....I respectfully decline to respond to that question on the grounds that my answer would tick you off. Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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<giggles> Ah, breaking news! We added the D last night. I'm positively overjoyed! I thought I couldn't be happier before but I was wrong!
I've got lots of poetry to write now! But more details forthcoming! Just had to announce right away because I'm bursting with happiness. Posts: 2843 | Registered: A Long Time Ago!
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In case you missed it, from OSC's Uncle Orson Reviews Everything.
quote:What poetry needs are new poets speaking in the vernacular. Not screaming in the vernacular -- the Def Poetry stuff on HBO is merely sad. We need poets with power to use the language and poetic forms to say things that need saying to people who are hungry to hear them -- and to hear them said with beauty and cleverness and skill.
When you walk under the moon, Just sing this little tune, And think of all the fiddle-floo we've played. Though your mijjle's gotten weary, And your plickton's feeling smeary, Don't ever think your welcome's overstayed.
Loo-dee-loo-dee-lollie. . . We'll sure miss you, jolly. Lie-doo-lee-doo-leeloo . . . We sing our song for you-loo.
Perhaps our jimps will play again, When there's sun instead of rain. And maybe when your grinkle's well, We'll sit and frivel for a spell. Won't it be fine, won't it be grand To again throw yarjubs across the land?
Loo-dee-loo-dee-lollie. . . We'll sure miss you, jolly. Lie-doo-lee-doo-leeloo . . . We sing our song for you-loo.
Posts: 14554 | Registered: Dec 1999
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First off, I'm *not* a poet. The only poetry I wrote was in adolescence. But I pulled up an old poem I wrote long ago to use a Cub Scout Pack Meeting. I revamped it a bit because of the awkward wording. It is still awkward. I thought I would post it for kicks.
The sands of time glitter like diamonds, and O how precious they are They stretch on before me in an endless stream reaching eternity far I may not bid them stay, no matter my wish, their flow will never halt. But as they pass, they transform to shadows and become as they were naught. Yet I retain a piece of each one past, and the ones I treated well Are stored up unto me--I treasure them, and stories they do tell! The moments that I did not cherish are worthless sands to me. N’er again may I have a second chance to restore their lustrous gleam. If I stop to ponder upon this truth and see what harm I’ve done, I cry to myself in deepest scorn, “How could you waste a diamond?”
Posts: 7050 | Registered: Feb 2004
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posted
For those of you who missed it on the Mrs. Powell is the devil thread:
Fanatic
I've lost my direction but I double my speed The signs on your heart are too tough to read This road is too lonely, I cry for the light. I race past your window, get lost in the night. And the trail is too dim, or my soul is just damned, Am I chasing shadows or do you hold my hand? My unwhispered question, "Am I out of your grace?" Is forgotten behind me, sacrificed to the chase. And so I run or I limp, I fly or I crawl You lift up my heart, but then let me fall. I'm not looking for answers, just a moment of peace But the dark path runs long, and there is no release.
Some interesting tidbits about this poem:
This is one of my few angsty poems.
I wrote it in high-school, when I was feeling put out at God, and at a girl. The first line is from a talk given by one of the Mormon apostles. I don't remember which.
My dad read it years later, and thought my wife had written it. This is because my family thinks I'm Mr. Cheery McHappy. They do not know about the Implacable Engine of Ultimate Destruction.
Posts: 14554 | Registered: Dec 1999
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...maybe you could do some sort of limited book run for your fans.
-------
Okay, this is edging into fan girl territory. But the truth is that the words only three Hatrackers have made it into the back of my planner, and you're in there TWICE. I think you should publish. Posts: 26077 | Registered: Mar 2000
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Okay, i've finally decided to take the plunge and post this one....
I wrote it in 1988 or 1989 for a classmate. On a dare, I submitted it to my high school's literary magazine my senior year, and it got published... and then the subject responded!!! Maybe I'll post the response later.
To Chris
When I first met you, I saw your outside and fled. I never bothered to look at The things that filled your head. I acted like the populus, Making fun of the gifted, the smart. Never once did I stop to see that We were one of mind and heart. We separated and I forgot About the innocent boy I knew So by the time we met again, The one I saw was the real you. Now I know to look inside Before judging a personality. Unfortunately, I learned too late To save friendship from fatality.
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