MuseStalker• Show poetry

                       

"In the beginning was the Word...."

               



"Reality is only an illusion,
albeit a very persistent one."
Albert Einstein



I recently discovered one of the most amazingly concise and thorough descriptions imaginable regarding what makes a poem "good".  It was written by Hale Chatfield, and I'm including here a link to the article:  www.poetrypower.com/poetry.htm#what 
I found this very helpful, and hope you will also.


Tribute:

These are a few of my favorite things:           

DeeCrepit
fleetingshadows
oneroleofmany
TillyMay
artis
astralshepherd
AshesToDiamond
queenie
EstherG
silica
AutomaticPilate
stompsalot
twistedpisces
ScarletTanager
whims
macandrew
HappyWanderer
NurseChilly
Odyssey
AnnD
unfathomable
Desiree Dark
Maureen
kvwriter
Samplette
philophant
Ashi
Jensenn
Ohbi Bohb

to name but a few of the talented
poets on this site

                   

                     

The Moo Cow Moo
By Edmund Vance Cooke

My Papa held me up to the Moo Cow Moo
So Close I could almost touch,
And I fed him a couple of times or two,
And I wasn't a fraid-cat, much.

But if my Papa goes in the house,
And my Mama she goes in too,
I keep still as a little mouse
'Cause the Moo Cow Moo might moo!

The Moo Cow's tail is a piece of rope,
All ravelled out where it grows;
And it's just like feelin' a piece of soap
All over the Moo Cow's nose.

And the Moo Cow Moo has lots of fun
Just switchin' his tail about;
But, if he opens his mouth - why then - I run,
'Cause that's where the Moo comes out.

The Moo Cow Moo has deers on his head,
And his eyes stick out of their place,
And the nose of the Moo Cow Moo is spread
All over the Moo Cow's face.

And his feet are nothing but fingernails,
And his mama don't keep 'em cut,
And he gives folks milk in water pails,
When he don't keep his handles shut.

But if you or I pull his handles, why
The Moo Cow Moo says it hurts.
But the hired man sits down close by
And squirts, and squirts, and squirts.
                       

The poem above is the first I ever remember hearing,
told to our class by my 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Ward.
I never forgot the poem...and I never forgot Mrs. Ward.

Any who have read my poetry will immediately realize the great
impact this piece has had on me.  It not only gave me
a love of poetry that has lasted over 40 years,
but it probably influenced my style more
profoundly than any poem I've read since.

There's certainly more beautiful poetry out there,
and I've read many poems that are funnier;
there are thousands that are more perfectly rendered.
But, for me...as with that first kiss...this will always be
the one that lives in my heart.




Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds.  A sense of humor is just
common sense, dancing.  -- Clive James



Stuff about me that I can't imagine anyone wanting to know:

First, and most importantly,
the beautiful dog whose image
graces this page is Lucy.
She is my best friend, and
you will often find her romping
through my poetry.

I love to play with fire...that is, I have a torch
and love to make glass beads with it...
though I produce beads only a mother could love.

I love to read, and devour anything from
Sci-Fi to autobiography...
whatever strikes my fancy at the moment.

My taste in music is ecclectic, but my favorites are:
Spanish/classical guitar
Old blues - Billie Holiday rules
Old rock'n roll and the better of the new stuff:
Three Doors Down
Fuel
Nickleback
The Offspring
Trapt

I am a rabid RPG fan...
and, no...I don't play on-line.
I play at home, alone, the way God & Microsoft intended.
After a hard day at work
 (where they won't let me kill the bad guys),
it's great to come home and play Elderscrolls
(where I can kill as many of 'em as I want!)

I love to laugh...although I have a twisted sense of humor -
yes, I am the one who sits behind you at the theater
and laughs at all the places where no one else is laughing.
I have also driven two husbands away,
primarily by laughing in the midst of big fights....
I mean, at some point, doesn't it just get too funny not to laugh?

                     

I just found a poem that I fell in love with at first-read:

Regret
By Alice E. Clear

Your gossamer bridge
Stretched across my path.
Being a woman,
I am grieved to see
Your frail web shattered.
I have a love for weavers,
And a grief for dreams.



                          

"If as a society, we ... started to teach our children
how to live to be happy. How to live to inspire.
How to live to feed their soul. Maybe we would
spend less time trying to prevent all the many ways we can die
 while living out our lives as we should."
twistedpisces AKA JayLynn
(a very smart AP friend & great poet)

                          

All that's left is my poetry....so help yourself.
I'd love feedback...and, I can handle
reality, so let me know if there's something
that you see in one of my pieces that
needs some work...I mean, you'd tell me if my
kid had a hole in his pants, right?
So...same thing. 
It's mine.  I love it.  And I want it to look good.

Oh, yeah.  Thanks for dropping by!