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Poetry
20 March 2013
11.27pm
Ron Nasty
"Where have you been?" "I'm not telling you..."
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 Thank you both for the compliments. The emotions? Hmmm... I don't really think about them, there is no real conscious effort put into that aspect above any other - it's just the way I am and the way I write. I would not call them my emotions though, they are the emotions of the poem. Not all of my writing is autobiographical. I will post another few in a few days, but at the moment I'm working on something new and need to keep my head in that piece of verse while I find its shape.

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
22 March 2013
11.37pm
Into the Sky with Diamonds
New York
Apple rooftop
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Re mja6758's "Your Hands"

There's something powerful about hands - touching hands, reaching out, clasping hands.

That's why "I Want To Hold Your Hand" has shot up in my estimation. The lyrics were never meant to be deep, but there IS something special about holding hands.

I think the lyrics as simple as they are mean more to me than they ever did to the authors.

"Into the Sky with Diamonds" (the Beatles and the Race to the Moon – a history)
24 March 2013
9.07pm
Ron Nasty
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Thought I'd put this one up. It was sparked by a couple of bits of John. The photograph of him in a Hamburg doorway, used as the cover of Rock 'n' Roll. The line in #9 Dream, "Two spirits dancing..."

The Spirit Dance

Summer is slipping away into a nonsense of
     unfinished phrases,
and framed in that distant doorway you look
     somehow different,
as if you should be dancing still,
     dancing till you're dizzy,
     dancing till you're dead.

And just as I was reaching summer's swing
     autumn came tumbling in,
and still you stood, staring impassively,
     in that distant doorway,
as if you should be singing still,
     singing till you're sorry,
     singing till you're slipping

into the next stanza. You see, we're not just
     older but also world weary,
and you make full use of fickle expressions
     to cover your unfounded guilt.
But this is a brand new stanza and there's no one
     to blame for mistakes
     made in previous ones.

 

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
24 March 2013
9.33pm
Egroeg Evoli
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 I love it! The part about the "brand new stanza" (and "slipping into the next stanza") was quite clever. Yet another wonderful poem from you! :)

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

24 March 2013
10.11pm
Ron Nasty
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 Thanks. I do rather like the "slipping//into the next stanza" bit. I remember thinking at the time that that was quite clever. Big-head or what! I'm typing up another one or two with the aim of putting them up tonight. Hope you'll enjoy them. Way this is going, you'll end up with my whole Selected Poems up here!

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
24 March 2013
11.37pm
Ron Nasty
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The Tear in My Hand

The rain trickles down my lover's neck as we kiss goodnight
and a single tear travels down her face.
Somehow this goodnight feels much more like a goodbye.
There are no gentle murmurings or pristine lullabies left
to break through our sense of loneliness and shadows.
Starry-eyed and laughing we are not.
The air hangs heavy with the anticipation of memories
which shimmer and clang, glimmer and damn.
We watch as, one by one, all the stars above go out.
I did always try to tell her that life was sad as well as funny;
if only I could've made those sad bits entertaining
perhaps our bedroom games wouldn't have slipped
so easily into nothing more than snarling shuffles —
bruised and vandalised by the rawness of reality.
Perhaps the fault does lie with me alone though.
I spent so long trying to convince her to be her own woman
I forgot too often to mention I'd still like for her to be mine too.
I still remember the joy felt on our first night however,
she seemed to me to be all glowing curves and sensual smile,
and I danced as if I were recovering from an accident.
Later, beneath her window, we kissed ever so clumsily,
and it was the kind of kiss which doesn't just move you,
but instead drops you violently to your knees.
With a furious flash of her white teeth
she asked if I was coming up for coffee,
and with her invitation dangling in the air like a string of pearls
I found myself stumbling with intoxication up her stairs.
She soon came through with two mugs,
she topped mine with brandy, then she settled on my knee.
She laughed, gently, "I'm really into the sensual pleasures,
so just where is it I might really enjoy your lips?"
Lips colliding, tongues exploding, she asked why I should stay the night.
I gulped, swallowed, didn't really know just what to say,
found myself burbling, "I think I could be a real fun lover,
I've studied how they think it should be done when I watch TV."
She gracefully giggled, said she'd need to think about it,
then grinned she thought it might be good fun to see.
And our union was a revelation.
Our union was the sound of two chained souls breaking free,
no longer rolling in rain clouds.
Our love seemed all the more poignant for its obvious failings,
for the fact we believed in the eternal smell of summer,
and were still young enough to not know just what we were doing,
to not know just what we were meant to be doing.
And, as she offered me her lipstick smooth caresses,
I really wanted nothing more than to offer her her promised land,
so now it seems so strange just how very quickly
all that pure passion crumbled to ash within our sweaty hands.
Our nighttime pleasure still often culminated
in that gentle tidal wave of sighs and fresh surprise,
perhaps that's why it took me some time to finally realise
no longer could I claim to be the stranger lost in paradise.
What had once seemed purer than an angel's milk
had somehow slipped into a web of casual violence and violent sex.
She began to leave a bitter taste in my mouth
but still claimed the sticking of her stilettos through my buttocks
was really little more than just a judicious accident.
And so now we are left with her tear nestling in my hand
as I gently wiped away her smudged mascara,
and though I yearn so much to walk away from all of this
I can do little to resist the hand she offers me.

Then and Now

You ask me if I love her still.
Your question strikes me as odd.
We'd reached that point where nothing much added up or mattered,
found that we were treasuring not all that we'd gained,
but all that we felt we'd somehow lost.

And it seems to me to be so many months
since last we held the secret of each other's smiles.
We fought rather long and hard as we tried our best to regain
the strength we found in the earlier days of our loving,
those moments which made us worthwhile.

And I'll gladly admit to loving her
but I love a her that's so long gone.
Many years have fallen between the us of then and the us of now,
and though we tried we're now apart because we lost that way,
and the will to find a way to carry on.

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
25 March 2013
2.05am
Egroeg Evoli
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 I love them!

I like how "The Tear in My Hand" starts with now, and then goes back to the beginning of the relationship, and then goes through it to now again.

I can sort of relate to "Then and Now." My parents used to get along well, but their relationship deteriorated over time.

These are great!

I'd love to read your whole Selected Poems! :)

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

26 March 2013
1.14pm
fabfouremily
Sitting in an English garden
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Love 'Then And Now', mja. I, too, can relate to it. Beautiful.

''We're just knocked out. We heard about the sell out. You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people. We're so happy we can hardly count.''

2 April 2013
12.26am
Ron Nasty
"Where have you been?" "I'm not telling you..."
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For those wondering where my posts of my poetry have gone, I am currently typing up my Selected Poems onto my laptop and PM-ing them to a couple of posters by letter because I don't want everything added to the site, and it was headed that way as I got requests for more. Should anyone wish to be added to the PM list, just let me know.

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
3 April 2013
7.06pm
AppleScruffJunior
Sitting here, doing nothing but procrastinating
Apple rooftop
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18 March 2013
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Here is some poetry I found (none of it was wrote by me) about The Beatles which I found very interesting and in some cases sweet enjoy:

John Paul George and Ringo, Liverpool's best
Their music forever will stand to the test
Thanks be to the Gods we have still Ringo & Paul
What will the next generation do without them all?
Their music will live on till the end of our time
To them and to their fans I dedicate this rhyme

*********************************************************

The Beatles Beat

George and Ringo and John and Paul
Thought they had seen and done it all,
The music, the dope, the girls, the money,
How much fun it is to be funny

At press interviews. And why not, since
Their houses in Liverpool made them wince?
And the cash was unreal, and in the forge
Of the studio, John, Paul, Ringo, and George

Could keep on pushing, and everyone bought--
They could buy whatever they thought.
Remember Lennon's pink Cadillac car?
Harrison, Lennon, McCartney and Starr

Had nowhere to go so broke they up.
Then one was shot. Then one gave up
The ghost to cancer. And when they're gone,
Ringo and George and Paul and John

Will lie outside their tapes and CDs,
No more doing just what they please,
But you and I and the rest of the gang
Will keep on singing what they sang.

**********************************************************

There once was a band, four in all, none of which were too big or small.
All
of them sang, but only one drummed. The rest of the band played the things that
are strummed.
They all loved each other, of that there's no doubt, and that
is the reason this band had worked out.
They all loved performing, for young
girls galore, all of them screaming "We love the Fab Four!"
They travelled
through Europe, America too; the greetings were followed by "I love you!"

They soon stopped performing, the venues too loud, the Beatles too quiet against the love-crazy crowd.
That wasn't the end though, more songs they
still made, even more shocking, they got better paid!
But after a while they
started to fight, none of them knowing who's wrong and who's right.
And then
the end came, the fights got too bad, all of them leaving in tears, and so sad.

They knew it was coming, the outcome was clear, but when the news came
everyone shed a tear.
John, George, Paul, and Ringo, who travelled the land,
had found the conclusion, they must end the band. :'(

***************************************************

All credit goes to the writers of these poems :)

 

INTROVERTS UNITE! Separately.....In your own homes.----Make Love, Not Wardrobes!
3 April 2013
9.55pm
Egroeg Evoli
Across the universe
Apple rooftop
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 I like those!

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

18 April 2013
7.02pm
fabfouremily
Sitting in an English garden
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So, last week, inspired by Mja, I wrote my first poem - thought I'd share with you guys :)   (has taken me a while to get round to it).

It's not brilliant, and it won't leave an ever-lasting mark on you but I feel proud of it. Maybe one day I'll look back and it'll be special to me as it was the very first. Constructive criticism (if you have any to offer), is great but please don't be too mean.

As the bird sings

and spreads it's little wings,

his time has come to fly.

The years have gone by so quickly,

quicker than the eye could see

For it seems not so long ago,

you belonged to no one but me.

What happened to my baby?

The little bird I once knew?

I guess he just changed,

I guess he just grew.

 

The line that I underlined I'm not happy with, but could think of no alternative.

''We're just knocked out. We heard about the sell out. You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people. We're so happy we can hardly count.''

19 April 2013
2.48am
Egroeg Evoli
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 I like it! apple01

Unfinished new one:

I can hear your cruel words
and the piercing screams
and my eyes are still sore from crying.
The noise was just noise,
but the noise had meaning
and the noise still has meaning
if you listen closely.
I can see the dark sky
and the faces that stood out 
in the midst of the melee
and my hands hurt from clutching the rough stone
that was my only way to escape from
the rigid claws of the end of it all.
My life,
your life,
intertwined in a way that cannot be defined,
stuck together at random angles,
incorrectly matched.
These words are just words,
but the words have meaning,
and they'll always have meaning
if you pay attention.
But "pay" cannot be a more appropriate word,
and the cost of life grows higher and higher each day.
Soon I'm sure the cost of living will be life itself,
a never-ending cycle that destroys itself,
only to restart again and again.
My life,
your life.
It isn't right.
Everything is flawed,
but this more than most,
and I'm done.
Done with the darkness,
done with the faces in the midst of the melee,
done with sacrificing my life to live.
So here I am,
here I stand,
here I fall,
here I disappear.
Here
I am gone.

 

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

19 April 2013
3.00am
Ron Nasty
"Where have you been?" "I'm not telling you..."
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Jawdropping! A very different style and voice to earlier pieces you have posted. I am struggling to lift my chin from the floor, you remarkable woman!

"I only said we were bigger than Rod... and now there's all this!" Ron Nasty
19 April 2013
3.12am
Egroeg Evoli
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Apple rooftop
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8  :) Thanks! :)

This kind of thing is what happens when I have a horrible headache... But if you liked it, maybe I should bang my head against the wall before I write so my poetry is better! a-hard-days-night-george-10 But actually, I write this kind of poetry when I'm in a sad/grumpy/etc. mood (which happens fairly often), regardless of whether I have a headache or not (just another thing to make me grumpy :) ), but I don't usually share it. But if you like it... perhaps I'll share more!

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

20 April 2013
9.07am
fabfouremily
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Please do, Autumn. That was incredible! apple01

''We're just knocked out. We heard about the sell out. You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people. We're so happy we can hardly count.''

20 April 2013
8.55pm
Egroeg Evoli
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 Thanks, I will! :)

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

26 April 2013
5.02pm
fabfouremily
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Here's one I wrote in class today.

Sixty million, they said.

That's sixty million, dead.

Lives ended before they could flourish,

like weeping willows, undernourished.

People shot down before they could flower,

all because of the suits with power.

John Lennon once said:

                                  ''War Is Over

                                   if you want it''

I guess we just don't want it.

''We're just knocked out. We heard about the sell out. You gotta get an album out, you owe it to the people. We're so happy we can hardly count.''

26 April 2013
10.12pm
Egroeg Evoli
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a-hard-days-night-ringo-8 Wonderful! My favorite line: "I guess we just don't want it." We- meaning everyone and anyone who can- need to change this.

Do you want to know a secret? Read my username backwards. ~ ~ ~ - - - . . . - - - ~ ~ ~ Also known as Egg-Rock, Egg-Roll, E-George, Eggy...

☮ & <3

27 April 2013
2.58am
Beatles in the Blood
Nowhere Land
Hollywood Bowl
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Last year fourth grade I entered a poem called Red written by me into a poetry contest, and I got to go to the place with a bunch of other people from a bunch of other schools and read poem. But the best part was, A WHOLE DAY AWAY FROM SCHOOL!

Red is like the stripes on the American flag as it waves in the fall breeze.

Its like blood dripping down my skin after I'm wounded.

Red is like me cruising down the street in my old red Ferrari on a beautiful spring day.

It smells like a cherry on top of my hot fudge sundae from Humdingers.

Red sounds like a cardinal at its nest calling its babies for dinner.

It's like a volcano erupting on the amazing beaches of Hawaii.

Red's like a hot roasting fire on a cool winter night. 

The Incedibly True Story THat Never Ends. By Sam.

Best Friend: WHat are you listening to

Me: The Beatles

Best Friend: Go Figure

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