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

Many friends have hills to climb
unaided most of the time
distance between us is a curse
that talismans can not dispel
physical strength have I none
to shoulder them with their task
through temporal zones my power flows
completely invisible to all mankind
but around my friends this aura glows
for them to know they are not alone
although I sit for hours on end
I am with them upon that hill
when the crest they ultimately will achieve
the sun shall shine forth so bright
past memories will fade having never existed


mine just now.


subject:war

The best part of hills is the mystery
Of what lies on the other side.
A pile of ruins, steeped in history.
A place where heroes have died?

KL.

next..tomorrow


A different view in answer to the Prof, post417.
As a traditionalist I think of Poetry as Rhyme and metre.
Example...

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how
sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes
and see
That brave vibration each way
free;
O how that glittering taketh me.

Bobert Herrick

I do not think you could make a prose description so evocative.
Of course there are descriptive, emotional, thought stirring words written by many. But why call them poetry. Why not call it Prosetry?
Just an Idea.

thanks KL

Spend your minutes wisely
All tomorrows come
From yesterdays

And though the road behind
Is set in stone
Walk onwards your way

forgot....

Next: Stress

Another chance for one of my impromptu Haiku!

The unbearable
Heaviness of being is
The cause of most stress

Next - Baftas!

Who votes for the programs?
Who gets all the fame?
Already bored of the thank-you's
Thanking name after name

next: punctuation

"Eats shoots and leaves" are
The habits of a panda
And Lynne Truss's book


have you spotted my haiku habit?

So let's go with

HAIKU

No really... </>

We have that distinction already KL (422) - the distinction between verse (which must rhyme) and poetry (which as a verbal experience may rhyme or not - the difference is in the quality of the verbal experience.

Example of difference:

I'll sing a song about a cloud
With daffodils if I'm allowed


I wandered LONELY as A CLOUD
That FLOATS ON HIGH above the hills

(Capitalisation to indicate mood, aspiration, feeling)

This also shows that verse came from songs. Telling poetry from verse seems to be like telling monochrome from kodacolour (or something) to some people. And they DO go on! And on! As if lack of knowledge were something to be proud of. Maybe it's some flight from feeling or something.

Jab

This, obviously, does not include (422) Prof's lovely poem. BTW Can you have lovely VERSE?


Jab

You are no doubt right Jab. I'm afraid I do not have the intellectual capacity to put up logical arguments. I do not look down my nose at un-rhymed verse, I do not even denigrate doggerel or the limerick form. The general definition of poetry contain the words rhyme metre and scansion. Blank verse is also quoted but seems to include iambic pentameter, which can be annoying if it goes on to long. Alexander Pope is a prime example of this, but there are many jewels hidden within his avalanche of words. As for 'lovely verse', well I suppose like beauty, lovely, is in the eye of the beholder. I find that rhyming poetry is easier to recall than blank verse. Perhaps that makes it less valuable. I am not able to make this judgement.

Poetry does include Milton as you say, plus Shakespeare, T.S.Eliot, Anglo-Saxon Poetry, many verse forms in many different countries in many different languages. But of course poetry with rhyme includes Shakespeare (again), Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, Robert Frost, many of my favourites. Indeed I've used rhyme quite a lot in these pages, on one thread or another.

For me, rhyming, plus metre and scansion, are part of poetry's toolkit, to be used or not as the occasion demands. The dada poets of the 20's used none of the traditional indicators of poetry, relying on the work itself to have meaning or not. Even their stuff with no discernible meaning can be fun, and serious at the same time, a point many poets would love to reach. But they do need freedom. Poetry is not a pedagogic discipline.

It seems to go back to what we've been taught and the way we've been taught it, as is so often the case. I agree that Pope can be marvellous, but not if he's taught badly.

If you start off with the rhyming rule, think how many marvellous poets you'd stop before they even started.

This is by Philip Larkin, a poet who both uses rhyme and not:

poetry of departures

Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand
As epitaph
'He chucked up everything
And just cleared off,'
And always the voice will sound
Certain you approve
This audacious purifying,
Elemental move.

First verse. I'd better not add anything, because of copyright.

This is from 'The Nations (UK) Favourite Poems of Journeys'. I recommend it heartily. Larkin's one of my favourites.

Regards,

Jab

Cry, the butcher bird
From whom all birds must flee
Live by death, like me.

A haiku of sorts. Do you have butcher birds in England?
In Oz they get their name because of a hooked beak and a reputed habit of hanging their victims in the trees.

KL

Next...flying.

sorry to interrupt the thread as such
this for KL
http://www.forestry.gov.uk/newsrele.nsf/WebPressReleases/B0F8E61E896469DE80256DE80050B5B5

Thanks for that prof. From the description it is the same bird as ours, except that it is quite common here in Victoria.

your welcome mate

Have you seen the Butcher Bird, the Butcher Bird, the Butcher Bird
Have you seen the Butcher Bird, so early in the morning

I bin got by the Butcher Bird
The Butcher Bird,the Butcher Bird
I been got by the Butcher Bird
So early in the Morning

Put away that gun she said, gun she said, gun she said
Put away that gun she said, or somebody'll get hurt

I kept the gun, that blasted gun, blasted gun, blasted gun
I kept the gun, that blasted gun
as long as I bloomin' wanted to

I'm not used to a load of booze
But I kept mu booze till the very next cruise
And we went out our spots to choose
So early in the morning

Still covered in stuff I fired my shot,
Fired my shot,
Fired my shot
But I shot my flaming leg right off
So early in the morning.

Have you seen the Butcher Bird, that neither flies nor sings a word
Since I adjusted his neck, that absurd bird
So early in the morning.



NB. This follows no pattern. It's neither verse nor poetry. If it were a lot better it could be poetry. Let's just say it's doggerel, bad poetry.
I have no knowledge4 of the Butcher Bird - this one is purely imagimary.
Don't play with guns!

Jab

plums oe fruit