Morning from the East

Soutra

-Soutra- Thanks. She was a good age, and a well deserved rest too.
Not the WWII bombings, no, no, no; the more recent IRA related strife.
Go ahead and kick, you now what they say, when you're lowly, the only way is higher, unless you haven't hit bottom yet.
It may be constructive.
I plan building a massive literary edifice whence to conquer my-commode! Perhaps grandad's gardenshed is the place to start.
Any help is help.

-phoenix- I briefly saw one of your sad, gestating poems in a thread of yours and I would like to respond , in time. r

-Soutra- Thanks for the sympathy, she was 86 when she finally cut the apron strings. However, she remains my spiritual friend.
Go ahead and kick, it may be constructive.
The essence of being lowly, is it not, is that there is plenty of work to do to be higher, unless of course one is on the way further down. Do you suspect this is the direction? r.

phoenix
You have written rhymes
Some were funny, some were sad
Telling of your life and times
All were brilliant, NONE were bad.

I wonder what he'd make of mine??????

Condolences on losing your mother robomonk, she must have been a good age if you can remember the bombing of London , oh perhaps you meant 7/7??
Anyway, no wish to kick a man when he is feeling lowly, but I think your poetry (and prose) need work.
A thread to avoid, for me.

ok.

Thanks soontobe. You mustn't take offence at my use of the word 'love'. When I'm feeling 'moody' and soulful it is appropriate and not necessarily directed to you but involves a muse which resides hereabouts. Seems to enshroud us all in a love, friend or foe.
Sad is good, it's natural and I'm still in mourning over the death of my mother two years ago. I am a bit slow and a bit lowly. But this is good.
I'm happy for the x as she is happy, I enjoy my solitude, muchly. Goodnight. r

Well, you can cut out the my love bit, but the rest was quite thoughtful.

You do sound a bit sad, as regards your ex.

I love the thought of being close to the romantic origins of the English language and of language itself. I smell the ancient hieroglyphs and the Celtic runes, see the sweat of the Roman centurions and their leather. The ancient baths and the temples of the Gods, the green grasses of the distant battlefields, you've seen the movies, know the lineage of your, our Kings and Queens. The language reeks with the archaeology of our world, the home of much of the mind of this baby boomer.
I am pained at the memories of London bombings even though practically every inch of England's turf has been sprayed by the blood ancestors warring and still Keats prises a Grecian Urn in some metric lyric which young students of poetry commit to young brains yet uncured with amphetamines, opiates but possibly a glass or two of ale has passed by.
I remember a beautiful lass served me a cup of coffee in a tea house in Bath when I visited many years ago. She was so beautiful, but I had already simply plighted my troth, a sacredness not to be cast aside in folly. No, there is not much I feel your writer's room needs from me that is not already part of your heritage my love. Regards r.

I should think you could add much to the Writers' Room.

T.S.Elliot and Joyce- yes of course thanks for the reminder, the old brain holds the day for me rather well, the more recent stuff, well, it just hangs off the hook somewhere below surface. Those I read a bit later at Uni with a whole lot of other works Burroughs, Maugham, DuMaurier, Moorcock and the Sci-Fi greats- oh, you know the list, all that culture stuff.
'Straining celibacy', why, brother, when was it ever easy to deprive oneself permission to fall completely in love with every gorgeous damsel present in one's universe? The flesh is weak and the soul, well it just 'merges' at will.
Is celibacy supposed to be easy? You're kidding.
Don't get me wrong, I have an x who lives away, we're 'divorced'- but I'm an old world, off planet slightly crazy catholic- our marriage was not annulled! Thus, I'm still married but she isn't- she was Anglican by faith-where divorce is permitted, or so I believe. There you have it. Simple isn't it?

-soontobe- Honestly, the harder question is which ones did I not like. They were all new and totally better than the radio or the newspapers. Including plays my favourite ones were Shakes.:Hamlet,; George Bernard Shaw: Pygmalion; Books: Dickens: Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield; Trollop: Barchester Towers; Conrad: Heart of Darkness, Typhoon and Youth; Collins: Moonstone; Waugh: the one with Aimee Thanatagenous; Golding: Lord of The Flies; didn't go for D.H.Lawrence that much; Pride and prejudice I've all but forgotten; Poetry: the usual selections from Keats, Chaucer, Auden, Byron, Coleridge, Milton; Hopkins, Shakes' sonnets plus a book I loved on the Sea by Rachael someone.
There are those I've forgotten and I will undoubtedly begin to forget more as I and my days move into my diminishing mental capacity to 'rule the universe' beyond my bedroom commode.

Why robo? Are you not human? Are you a computer?

I think "straining celibacy" means that he was celibate but his trousers were not.

Perhaps 'straining celibacy' is something the 'monk' is finding difficult to cope with. Are you still studying at school, robomonk?

I am guessing - you liked T S Elliot, James Joyce? Try Christopher Rush "Hellfire and herring" - not poetry but an autobiography of a boyhood in a Fife fishing village, with poetry in the language.

What's 'straining celibacy'?

What works of literature did you like at school?

Sorry people that you find my 'work' weird and can't understand it. Do you want me to interpret/speak to yourselves about it. Are you interested in what I think I'm saying (it's really not that deep)?
-henetha- What is it you love in poetry? Can you share some special lines you love? Would be nice. r

Sorry to disappoint, it means "Opening post", and not the sort you need a paper knife for.

-Ninathenana-: apologies once again, but please, what does 'op' mean?
Options possible: other person; operant publisher; other parent; old parsnip; old prick; old poof; old person; old pa; other party; orbiting planet; off planet; outstanding person; obviously perfect; obsequiously pusillanimous; obsolescence personified; otherworldly predominantly; oh please; occupationally poor; obviously pensioned; orderly and plain; our playmate; organs percolating; orbiting periscope; obfuscating and putrefying...etc.
But I'm thinking, 'our playmate'?

I love poetry, but am definitely not clever enough to understand what this poem is all about!

Nina, in that case we're both thick. How very weird, both this and the other spiel.