h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

"Come out, come out, wherever you are,"
To splashes of colour that signify spring,
"You can't be far, you can't be far,"
In the deep dead of winter the children sing.

But the snowbells hide their little white heads
And the crocus their green leaves keep buried.
The daffodills and johnquills sleep
'Neath the snow the ground seems to have married.

The cardinal sings and the BlueJay scolds
In a tune, to the children, contrary:
"Enjoy the snow don't get in a rush!
"For it's only January."

'Nonnie

#1) Who is Katherine Mansfield?

#2) Is is poetry in motion to dance about the house in a cape and tri-cornered hat carrying a violin and listening to Saint-Seans 'Danse Macabre'?

I'll let Nonnie answer the Mansfield question - I think she's better acquainted (sp?) with her than I...

..I'll agree with 'in motion' but poetry? Hmmmm... sounds more like 'modern dance' or maybe 'modern ballet' to me...

Early winter morning,
standing on the plat form,
waiting
for the commuter train
to take me to work.

Contemplating the scenery
The forest, the little lake
frozen now,
ice not yet thick enough
to go skating.

Snow no more - it melted...
But frost! It is almost
as beautiful,
glittering, covering
the trees with lace trimmings.

Sun rising, the sky above
pale blue, almost mauve
A few streaks
of clouds, changing
from pale rose into gold.

Pling! Announcing the arrival
of commuter train. Me wishing
it were
a long distance train,
carrying me into the unknown.

How about a one-act play I wrote using the words from E.E. Cummings

"Anyone lived in a pretty how town
With up so floating many bells down
Spring summer autumn winter
He sang his didn't, he danced his did."

You should probably ask the poster who changed the subject to Kathrine Mansfield. The poetry in my post was from me, not her. In fact, I believe the only non-original I've posted was The Night Before Christmas.


'Nonnie

Although, if I could find Trees (or remember all of it and cite the author) I'd do that one.. Lessee.. What I do remember..


"I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast"

*sigh*

'Nonnie

Well, I only changed the subject because I was going to post one of her poems...

...but is my memory failing me when I remember Nonny saying something about K.M.?

In silence and hope,
We sulk and we mope,
For an uncertain dope,
Is now Pres.

We will serve in the field,
Until George Bush is healed,
Or he's shot and he's keeled,(poetic liesence)
And falls dead.

We're all in a vex,
'Cause we've now got this Tex,
That our country ellects,
But not really.

But it's four years best,
(Or please maybe less),
That we're all in distress,
'Cause he's known to be all touchy-feely!

I wanted to share this insult with someone but the forum for insults is dead. This works for any situation, being both sarcastic and clever and costomizable. Here goes:

I couldn't care less about (person or persons)(social function), oh wait(with a slight chuckle), I could, but that would take (noun) I'm not willing to give.

Example: "I couldn't care less about the school pep-rally, oh wait, I could, but that would take effort I'm not willing to give."

Then, if retorted, use "Arn't we a lille beyond that by now?" or "I'm too busy to waste my time talking to you."

What do you think?

As a disclamer, I never meant to imply that GWB should be killed.

*drats*

But Gore on the other hand....

(in Mrs. Doubtfire accent)

No,no! Musn't kill him eather, deerie. Now Miss Tripp, she's asking for it. Scone?

By the way, remember that question about dancing as poetry? DANSE MACABRE is a 'poeme symphonique' or, Symphonic poem.

Speaking of poetry, shouldn't we get back to it?

The dance floor is an artist's stage
With movements echoing her rage
Conductor's backgrounds emphasize
As deep within emotions rise
And in an instant rage to rave
Just as hearts and souls behave
Without so much a fleeting glance
To mental prowess in the dance
For what we know to be or not
Emotions will ignore the lot
And wend their way with eyes closed tight
And the dance, the dance consumes the night.

'Nonnie

Nonnie, who wrote that? You?

Yes.

Great! I like it!.....hmmm....could you, maybe, be persuaded into writing one about Flamenco Dance? *hopeful look*

Hmm...

As a butterfly's wings, her skirt unfurls
While the clack of her castanets keep beat
Her flickering fingers and the wave of her arms
And the guitar's duet with her dancing feet
All the ladies cheer and the men throw coins
And her long, dark hair flies so wild and free
And the flashing glint from her many rings
Sparkles o'er the faces of you and me
And her magic chant as the climax nears
And the cries, "Ole!" from the crowd give voice
To the swirling colours and flashing lights
And with her last stance We all Rejoice!

Uhm.. Like that?

'Nonnie