Poetry Forum

I'm not sure I "enjoyed" writing this, as sustaining the rhyme and rhythm (almost) was quite difficult, which is probably why most modern poets don't bother and why they denigrate the very characteristic that automatically makes poetry recognisable to the ear and lifts it out of the prosai...

FOND OLD FOOL He bears a dire ailment, a terrible itch no scratching will soothe and no surgeon can stitch. No pill will relieve him, no medicine save the icy embrace of cold death’s lonely grave. The fire does not fade, only flares white with age; no will or forswearing can longing assuage. Each gi...

I like this- you maintain the metaphor throughout and end it satisfyingly, although I personally think that art about art is inward-looking and slightly self-absorbed.

You certainly capture the language of a certain age and profession, but what are you trying to say through your poem about life or people?

I like this, and disagree that the language is too rich. poetry is heightened language, and should sound different from prose; the current prevalent trend for ironic prose arranged into poetic "lines" with the odd enigmatic image thrown in will lead us nowhere.

I found this rather immature in outlook and rather pointless, with a limp ending.

I quite enjoyed this , but I think it would have ended more strongly had you managed to rhyme the ending lines.

I like the image of the old love remorselessly springing from the grave, like the hand at the end of the film "Carrie".

TRIDUUM Thursday Tonight I shall sip our Saviour’s sweet blood and taste His body offered in thin bread. This is the night of the traitor’s kiss, of torches and swords in the garden; I am here to share the passion, but weak flesh can only close tired eyes and wilt like saints amid olive trees. ........

The evocative images show your talent, Barrie. You should apply it to something more important in your own life , which is relevant to other people's experience of life,

How is this subject important to you? I disagree with Barrie- the ending is limp and sudden.

Wot? Still no reactions? Come on!

Beautifully evocative in its description and sensuality, but what does it SAY to the outsider about life or people?

FOR MY DAUGHTER Fruit of my flesh, I saw and claimed you first as I hovered numb by your mother’s head. Pethidine-pacified, drug-dilated, your sapphire eyes rolled, then pierced into mine. I love you with unconditional love, peak of my creation. You cannot know how I burn when your chosen path is ro...

THE MEANING OF BLOOD Early one grey summer morning on my in-laws’ Polish farm, I was roused at six to help with killing a two-year-old pig. They were short of meat, the weather forecast predicted a few cooler cloudy days and a big sow in the sty was ready. Awakened before the snoring victim, I watch...

Poems about poets run the risk of being boring, but this is saved by the final verse. I think it's as important to have a strong conclusion to a poem as in a story, novel, film or play.

This is a good metaphor for seduction . Crumbles are better when made with butter, though.

What are you trying to say through this poem?

A short poem about a former boss of mine whom I hated. He might represent all people whose humanity seems to evaporate when given authority over others. A MAN OF HIS TIME In wire-hair helmet and glasses to match, monochrome suits, smart coat for fire alarms, he rules his bleak domain with a cold eye...

Ray,
The dead were slighted by the neglect and vandalism in the cemetery, and the toppled obelisks signify the former status of those whose graves they overlooked before they fell. It is based on my first ever memory, at least the first I can pin down to a date.

This is the first poem I wrote last year: SONNET Fall blessed into her fondant fragrant flesh; may your desire and hers gently enmesh. Let no cold inhibition bar your way, for you are hers and she is yours this day. Softly skim the silk of her scented skin; watch her brown eyes close. What dreams ru...

In the last two years, since I suddenly caught the bug, I have written over 50 poems of varying lengths. What do you think of this? It is one of my best. CEMETERY 1959 In my birthplace one ashen autumn day, I stopped at the forlorn town cemetery to pay my respects at my uncle’s grave. Past the sooty...

I particularly like the end of the third stanza: "in the theatre emergency poses/are struck at an unwilling heart" Not a poem I would have written myself, but a powerful one. Perhaps I would have tried to end the poem on a resonant rhyme. Perhaps the last two stanzas could be exchanged wit...