The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Wed 2/1/06)

[RetroLounge]

At Last

At last, a reason
not to want to live

forever: the stars
are winking out,

apparently, although
it won't be apparent

to most of us any time
soon, one here,

one there, it will be
eons before noticeable

holes appear in Orion's
belt, for example, or

the Water-Bearer's
bucket, but just knowing

they're going out e-
ventually, who would

want to stay on
under what will become

an unpunctuated
sky, just a few faint grains

of light, too few to make
anything of, nothing

to wish on, hitch
our wagons to, nothing

to lift us out of ourselves,
no pinpricks of hope

in our black box, no reason
to stay, no place to go.

Sharon Bryan

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

RL

[In_The_Wind]

1. The beauty of nature calls me back from my slumber.

Without it ~ there would be total emptiness for me.
I could sleep forever.

:hi:

[yvr girl]

2. I see we've moved past wistful...

I'll buy you a new sky, full of stars. :hug: :* (location your choice)

[RetroLounge]

3. I hear Vancouver is very pretty in the spring...

How's the view of the sky?

RL

p.s. Would you lassoo the moon for me too?

[yvr girl]

14. The sun, moon and stars

Vancouver is almost always pretty. The spring flowers should be showing themselves in a couple of weeks.

I see snow-capped mountains from my window, and above them a sky of blue.

[tigereye]

4. very very nice!

thanks.

[miss_american_pie]

5. ...

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something everyday. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these things will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

[nothingshocksmeanymore]

7. Damn!

[RetroLounge]

8. Shit, that's good...

I wish I would have found that and used it in a daily post...

:hi:

RL

[miss_american_pie]

9. I'm not revealing my sources

:hi:

[RetroLounge]

11. A woman of mystery...

color me intrigued...

RL

[miss_american_pie]

13. ...

Only intrigued?

I'll have to try a little harder...

[RetroLounge]

15. Not too hard, subtlety can be effective too...

:hi:

RL

[miss_american_pie]

17. Oh you

:spank:

That is not where I was going with this.

[xchrom]

6. i still remember the first time traveling out west

away from city lights -- a vast black night filled to the brim with stars i had never seen.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

10. How very beautiful.....how very sad as well.....

I hope beyond hope that this poem does NOT reflect your mood today.....

But something tells me that it does.....

My dear RetroLounge.....be well, and take care......many of us here love you......

:loveya: :hug: :pals:

[RetroLounge]

16. My mood is fine today...

Thanks!

:hug:

RL

[Whoa_Nelly]

12. They did not expect this

They Did Not Expect This

They did not expect this. Being neither wise nor brave
And wearing only the beauty of youth's season
They took the first turning quite unquestioningly
And walked quickly without looking back even once.

It was of course the wrong turning. First they were nagged
By a small wind that tugged at their clothing like a dog;
Then the rain began and there was no shelter anywhere,
Only the street and the rows of houses stern as soldiers.

Though the blood chilled, the endearing word burnt the tongue.
There were no parks or gardens or public houses:
Midnight settled and the rain paused leaving the city
Enormous and still like a great sleeping seal.

At last they found accommodation in a cold
Furnished room where they quickly learnt to believe in ghosts;
They had their hope stuffed and put on the mantelpiece
But found, after a while, that they did not notice it.

While she spends many hours looking in the bottoms of teacups
He reads much about association football
And waits for the marvellous envelope to fall:
Their eyes are strangers and they rarely speak.
They did not expect this.

--Vernon Scannell

Hey, Mornin', RL...

Could find a poem to share about the children? Hope yours are doing well. From what you have shared it's evident you love them very much.

Nelly