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NT: under one's skin. Yrmenlaf 03 Sep Steve Parker 03 Sep In reply to Sandrine: Owain half beard is my given name I save my razor's edge for spear and sword Approach me if you dare , I do not feign and your demise will come, you have my word.

In reply to Yrmenlaf: Haha, it had actually, an extensive green and shaggy beard. But it's just been shaved off well, blasted off and had its chin painted black.

It now presents a clean chiselled prow to the shining waterways. Not even a Hitler moustache remains!

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JIB 03 Sep In reply to Sandrine: The embittered sinner began:- "As if from a mother untimely ripped, As if from hurricane storm blown; Beneath layers of soul stripped, Beneath mortal flesh of beating breastbone; For 'tis man's evil nature", pointing to man's actions, sayeth he:- "Carved with awful purpose Intended, Carved as not from living thing; Drawn with entrails Exploded, Drawn with limbs quartered Quavering"; Yet Steve Parker 04 Sep JIB 04 Sep In reply to JIB: Cool, no metastasis no death so slow -- we just slowly glow.

Sandrine 04 Sep How come you're not asking Y if he was really unborn? Is it only me that gets taken literally?! In reply to chris wyatt: It would suit you Chris, to have a beard! In reply to Steve Parker: Have you found a name for it yet? But pleasant to read. It's nice to have you here, a very different voice.

In reply to Steve Parker: Yep we just slowly glow and get better everyday like vintage wine. The NT is "love" as we haven't had it for a long while. Yrmenlaf 04 Sep I did have a proper beard once - makes me look like a terrorist. Love is patient She waits for the jasmin , the summer evening laden with distilled mists, the hum of bees freshly saddened faces to wander to her grove. Love is Kind She does not rip or scratch shoot arrows, ambush She say's "come to me!

In reply to chris wyatt: I think the only part I consciously 'lifted' was from the 'Scottish play' untimely ripped The rest is probably unconscious and lurks - ready to escape from the darkness of the cave In reply to Sandrine: Well its damn good whatever. I loved the style. Steve Parker 05 Sep Sandrine 05 Sep Love is female? I have always known!

In reply to JIB: You've got almost a consensus there. In reply to Steve Parker: Hahaha! That made me chuckle: it was rather funny at 7. I quite like this flow of poetry to read in the morning not much time in the evenings these days poets.

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It puts me in a good mood. Yrmenlaf 05 Sep Guy "Fawksey" Wilson 05 Sep In reply to Sandrine: The Wind is blowing the rain against the thin glass of my window, It is an empty music to sleep to; you're not here 'Tis in the dark I wrap the bedclothes tight And remember when I ran in the field With daisy's between my toes And I knew nothing of you ,of love But unseen to my child's eyes You stood upon the green hill Smiling, and time and distance Were not the keeping of a man from a woman. In reply to johnj: Youghut? Some sort of ginger biscuit in the shape of a Mongol hut?

In reply to Yrmenlaf: Lovely stuff. In reply to Fawksey: Sad and poignant. I think I could read your poems, poets, and I could guess the author right away these days. In reply to Sandrine: NT: lumber. In reply to Sandrine: Sawdust She walked by the sawmill I watched her as she went I cut another fence post an intoxicating scent I caught her by the millrace she gasped in mock suprise my lips upon her neck my hardness on her thighs I promised her everything just so that we could be lovers and in return she made me a man like she had all the others.

In reply to Fawksey: What a naughty girl! I bet she left some good memories though. In reply to Sandrine: lumber so stuff your foot in my mouth let me watch you undress your names are those of wild fields in the wind yesterday this man this weird man I thought then with a large bag I am an ex-offender he says buy some kitchen items from me I well really I thought he says sex offender couldn't get past the image of him pushing someone down in wet grass the house is tumbledown hillsides little men cling to its sides half-Japanese he looks to me with bags full of torpedoes I don't know what to say I am a fool from the long moments of grass I can't buy nothing I say I am filled with slime and wet gloves what about that what about he walks away watching me lumbers back roaring got to slam the door to keep him out his big bag full of rain and implements and afternoon prophecy.

In reply to johnj: I was just mocking a bit.

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How are you keeping anyway? JIB 05 Sep In reply to Steve Parker: Really intriguing! In reply to JIB: He was still young. Well you got me crying In reply to Sandrine: I'm really good thanks exciting times, we've almost got our lil ol heavy metal band back up to full volume, and ready to start playing some shows, hows the guitaring coming along? In reply to johnj: I still cannot play anything, I am really busy trying to put together an application for another degree at the moment. But I have enrolled to a course for complete beginners at the local college starting on the 18th so I am all excited about it and I have my guitar on my lap caressing the chords as we speak.

In reply to JIB: Condolences btw. Hope you're ok and the sorrow ends gradually. In reply to Sandrine: You probably doing way better than I did for a long long time, took me about ten years to learn how to tune the thing! In reply to Sandrine: Thank you for your kindness and continuing support for my writing. In reply to johnj: How were you playing it then if it wasn't tuned? Thanks for sharing it. In reply to johnj: And where will you be playing? I have not been on here much recently, is there a climbing guitar meet at some point?

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In reply to JIB: You're welcome. Shall we have another theme? In reply to Sandrine: my lumber is unmentionable it flows down through goits and spillways until it reaches the dam above Sidewinder where it jams solid as midwinter ice and the boys have to tiptoe out with whale saws and blowtorches just to start its heart.

/ Poetry thread #28

We look forward to meeting you. Goodnight, all! Costa del Sol, upper level. Had to moor it to trees, as the soil was too shallow for mooring pins. The competition included seven rounds of debates.

In reply to Steve Parker: Being practical minded, I read the poem as a motor problem on your narrow boat. I liked it too. NT: encrust. In reply to Sandrine: encrust me tonight with hugs my boys for I have returned from the wet and wild and tomorrow I must leave again.

In reply to Sandrine: Well I had it in some tuning, it was just me tuning it to what i thought was in tune, which sometimes sounded interesting you could say. We're just goin to start from scratch again and get out on the circuit, I don't know of a climbing guitar meet, there has been talk of getting a ukc band thing together to play some covers have a meet kinda thing, but nothing as much has happened with it as yet. In reply to Steve Parker: OUch, that got me tearful again. In reply to johnj: It would be much fun. Perhaps we need to wait until the next spell of good weather.

In reply to Steve Parker: I see Motorhead sweet, first single i ever bought was Motorhead and Girlschool St Valentines massacre, this is the volume we're talking about, heavy! I find it har to listen to that late at night, in a quiet house. Tomorrow, at dawn, will be good. In reply to Sandrine: Yeah i'm sure we'll get something organised at some point in the future. Quirky stuff from SP as ever! In reply to Steve Parker: And now I smiling. Aren't they manipulative these poets! Salt floes Encrust her visage, A facade that masks Only her woes.

Diurnal world turning, Still silence, An eon of time, Healing. Nice to have you back!