Paddy
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SLIGHT REVISION
sixty two, dusted down and travelled with a pen
on his back, nailed slabs on railway tracks
for a harmful fix of currency, now sat drunk
on a Camden bus with a loser playing street-mate.
Essential thermals bring in a new year, convenience
for an immediate plot, preferably sheltered but if not
then the night bus until the driver's off. Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago.
He eats when he's hungry, drinks himself dry
on cider and the life he remebered he had.
Admiration for the queensbury boys and highbrow
fighters from a generation gone by.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
Nowhere is Enfield, London Town, teas and screwdrivers
in a cafe gangway, aimlessly wandering to avoid
shop proprietors looking for discourse involving
slaps to faces with verbal bats of ettiqutte.
Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over notes of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and howling.
ORIGINAL
sixty two, dusted down and travelled with a pen
on his back, nailed slabs on railway tracks
for a harmful fix of currency, now sat drunk
on a Camden bus with a loser playing street-mate.
Essential thermals bring in a new year, convenience
for an immediate plot, preferably sheltered but if not
then the night bus until the driver's off. Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago.
He eats when he's hungry, drinks himself dry
on cider and the life he remebered he had.
Admiration for the queensbury boys and highbrow
fighters from a generation gone by.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
the skeletal schema of everything known has
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
Nowhere is Enfield, London Town, teas and screwdrivers
in a cafe gangway, aimlessly wandering to avoid PCSOs
and shop proprietors looking for discourse involving
slaps to faces with verbal bats of ettiqutte.
Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over notes of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and howling.
sixty two, dusted down and travelled with a pen
on his back, nailed slabs on railway tracks
for a harmful fix of currency, now sat drunk
on a Camden bus with a loser playing street-mate.
Essential thermals bring in a new year, convenience
for an immediate plot, preferably sheltered but if not
then the night bus until the driver's off. Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago.
He eats when he's hungry, drinks himself dry
on cider and the life he remebered he had.
Admiration for the queensbury boys and highbrow
fighters from a generation gone by.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
Nowhere is Enfield, London Town, teas and screwdrivers
in a cafe gangway, aimlessly wandering to avoid
shop proprietors looking for discourse involving
slaps to faces with verbal bats of ettiqutte.
Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over notes of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and howling.
ORIGINAL
sixty two, dusted down and travelled with a pen
on his back, nailed slabs on railway tracks
for a harmful fix of currency, now sat drunk
on a Camden bus with a loser playing street-mate.
Essential thermals bring in a new year, convenience
for an immediate plot, preferably sheltered but if not
then the night bus until the driver's off. Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago.
He eats when he's hungry, drinks himself dry
on cider and the life he remebered he had.
Admiration for the queensbury boys and highbrow
fighters from a generation gone by.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
the skeletal schema of everything known has
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
Nowhere is Enfield, London Town, teas and screwdrivers
in a cafe gangway, aimlessly wandering to avoid PCSOs
and shop proprietors looking for discourse involving
slaps to faces with verbal bats of ettiqutte.
Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over notes of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and howling.
Last edited by beautifulloser on Sat Jan 19, 2008 3:54 pm, edited 2 times in total.
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!
This is good, although there are one or two bits that could do with tidying up - probably the best, and the most universally coherant one you've done.
travelled with a pen on his back - I take it he's a writer as well as labourer (unless he keeps hens).
Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago. - I don't really understand what this means - I don't follow the logic of cause and effect here. He smoked on the back row because there had been another bus five minutes previously??
He eats when his hungry, - his or he's?
drinks himself dry
on cider - good one.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
the skeletal schema of everything known has
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow. - This verse is really good, excellent sonics - alliteration, internal rhyme....Versed in the purse of literature & sketched out etchings of an epitaph - You've raised the bar here, sunshine.
I like the out verse too - very fitting.
Not an original theme (but what is?), but very well handled with some choice words.
Your best in my opinion.
Barrie
travelled with a pen on his back - I take it he's a writer as well as labourer (unless he keeps hens).
Smoking on
the back row as there was another one to nowhere
approximately five minutes ago. - I don't really understand what this means - I don't follow the logic of cause and effect here. He smoked on the back row because there had been another bus five minutes previously??
He eats when his hungry, - his or he's?
drinks himself dry
on cider - good one.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
the skeletal schema of everything known has
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow. - This verse is really good, excellent sonics - alliteration, internal rhyme....Versed in the purse of literature & sketched out etchings of an epitaph - You've raised the bar here, sunshine.
I like the out verse too - very fitting.
Not an original theme (but what is?), but very well handled with some choice words.
Your best in my opinion.
Barrie
After letting go of branches and walking through the ape gait, we managed to grasp what hands were really for......
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Barrie
Thanks dood. Pardon the typo! (corrected)
Thanks, that's my favourite stanza too - sad sight though, mind.
Is it just the smoking on the bus bit needing revision do you think?
Doves
A thematic connection, ermm, from the narrative do you mean? I think it's fairly obvious what's going on, who he is, where the setting is, no? Have another read and tell me if you're still not following.
Cheers'um
Beau
x
Thanks dood. Pardon the typo! (corrected)
Aye, well, was would be more accurate, but correct on both counts.travelled with a pen on his back - I take it he's a writer as well as labourer (unless he keeps hens).
I just mean, he smokes on the bus because there's loads of them running, there was one five minutes ago, they'll be another in fives minutes time. Structured it that way for the sonics, mainly, just sort of flowed that way. Hmm, not sure what to do with that . . . . does it make more sense now? Is it obvious now I've said that, or does it still need re-working?I don't really understand what this means
Thanks, that's my favourite stanza too - sad sight though, mind.
Is it just the smoking on the bus bit needing revision do you think?
Doves
A thematic connection, ermm, from the narrative do you mean? I think it's fairly obvious what's going on, who he is, where the setting is, no? Have another read and tell me if you're still not following.
Cheers'um
Beau
x
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!
Beau
Good one. It's got a Tom Waits feel to it. Apart from alot of well crafted phrasing
I really like the humanity running through the piece. There's nothing cold or scientific about your approach to poetry, Beau. You lead with your chin.
This has got to be one of your best so far.
Good one. It's got a Tom Waits feel to it. Apart from alot of well crafted phrasing
Very nice indeed! - you've got this one under control.beautifulloser wrote:Versed from the purse of literature
I really like the humanity running through the piece. There's nothing cold or scientific about your approach to poetry, Beau. You lead with your chin.
Strong ending too.beautifulloser wrote:dead beat,
worthlessly alone and howling.
This has got to be one of your best so far.
"This is going to be a damn masterpiece, when I finish dis..." - Poeterry
I think we're talking the about smoking ban here, are we? You mean because buses are so frequent, he doesn't mind being kicked off? That's the only sense that I can make of it - But what about the fare? Does he have a roam-around-forever ticket - I hear they're quite cheap if bought from a reputable funeral director, and you can take them with you.
Barrie
Barrie
After letting go of branches and walking through the ape gait, we managed to grasp what hands were really for......
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Beau,
Wow. I will give you a quick nod and then come back for an indepth look. My first thought was that the poem really lifts off at S3. S1 has some striking language and visuals and is good. S2 takes me completely out of the poem and doesn't feel vital to the whole.
The last stanza is a killer.
e
I will be back for more...
Wow. I will give you a quick nod and then come back for an indepth look. My first thought was that the poem really lifts off at S3. S1 has some striking language and visuals and is good. S2 takes me completely out of the poem and doesn't feel vital to the whole.
The last stanza is a killer.
e
I will be back for more...
bl
your number one piece of writing IMHO. Versed from the purse of literature is a standout.
Where did all this rhyme, alliteration, internal rhyme and so on come from? You are a versatile chap.
the piece is a whole that doesn't lend to nit picking but here's a few anyway
the smoking lines barrie mentioned aren't clear what you mean
s3 typo in remembered
admiration for the queensbury rules rather than boys maybe
second last stanza - Nowhere. Is that nowhere or now here?
don't why but I don't like PCSOs. Its maybe just acronyms or maybe it will date it as they will probably be gone in a few years. they don't add to the shopkeepers
Elphin
your number one piece of writing IMHO. Versed from the purse of literature is a standout.
Where did all this rhyme, alliteration, internal rhyme and so on come from? You are a versatile chap.
the piece is a whole that doesn't lend to nit picking but here's a few anyway
the smoking lines barrie mentioned aren't clear what you mean
s3 typo in remembered
admiration for the queensbury rules rather than boys maybe
second last stanza - Nowhere. Is that nowhere or now here?
don't why but I don't like PCSOs. Its maybe just acronyms or maybe it will date it as they will probably be gone in a few years. they don't add to the shopkeepers
Elphin
Beau
Some other thoughts:
The only nit I've got is the line the skeletal schema of everything known
Nice phrase but, for me, overloads what follows in the stanza.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
I'd suggest that it has a better balance.
That said, I reckon this is one for the trophy case.
Some other thoughts:
The queensbury boys sound like a London street gang to me. If so, I would be reluctant to change this line as it works very well as it is.beautifulloser wrote:Admiration for the queensbury boys and highbrow
fighters from a generation gone by.
This gets better every time I read it, if only because it reminds me of my 'Uncle' Tony. He loved literature and could quote all manner of classic poetry he'd had drummed into him at school. He too eventually became fallable and repetitive, but what a character. These are wonderful lines.beautifulloser wrote:Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
Clever and dry.beautifulloser wrote:and shop proprietors looking for discourse involving
slaps to faces with verbal bats of ettiqutte.
The only nit I've got is the line the skeletal schema of everything known
Nice phrase but, for me, overloads what follows in the stanza.
Versed from the purse of literature, the words are
tangled in dementia, fallable and repetitive,
degenerated into sketched out etchings of an epitaph
on his drunk and tired brow.
I'd suggest that it has a better balance.
That said, I reckon this is one for the trophy case.
"This is going to be a damn masterpiece, when I finish dis..." - Poeterry
I agree with everybody, beau - this is a good one. You've harnessed all that energy that so often goes streaming off into space, and you've used it to drive this mighty little thing.
Very good, very affecting. Great to see.
Cheers
David
Very good, very affecting. Great to see.
Cheers
David
- twoleftfeet
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Hi BL,
I agree with Barrie - this is easily your most accessible poem to date (translation: I think I can understand it!)
For me S3 is the best stanza BECAUSE it is straightforward compared to, say, S4 which sounds magnificent ,
but I found the image "skeletal schema of everything known" to be (ultimately) baffling.
"everything known" is not the same as "everything he knows", even though it doesn't sound as good.
wrt S4
I wholeheartedly agree with Oskar's suggestions.
I like this a lot (although I would feel insulted if I was a resident of Enfield - then again, it would feel good to know that the Beatles wrote a song about me )
Geoff
I agree with Barrie - this is easily your most accessible poem to date (translation: I think I can understand it!)
For me S3 is the best stanza BECAUSE it is straightforward compared to, say, S4 which sounds magnificent ,
but I found the image "skeletal schema of everything known" to be (ultimately) baffling.
"everything known" is not the same as "everything he knows", even though it doesn't sound as good.
wrt S4
I wholeheartedly agree with Oskar's suggestions.
I like this a lot (although I would feel insulted if I was a resident of Enfield - then again, it would feel good to know that the Beatles wrote a song about me )
Geoff
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Hey Guys
Thanks for the positive comments.
Baz - "doesn't mind being kicked off? ". Baz, dude, just jump on the middle door, you think some fat MacDonald's eating TV chewing fat-wod's gonna get up off his polysatured gluteus maximus because someone hasn't paid a quid? And anyway, he's got one of those freedom passes things, all new and shiny it was too. But yeh, but no, basically what you said is what I was tyring to get across . . . so, that's all dandy then.
Oskar/Geoff - thanks for those comments, agree entirely, made a small edit. Oskar, thanks for sharing Uncle Tony, over the moon it could have such a personal connection, the same guy in different trousers . . . at least the repetitive ones are sometimes worth being flexed against you though, eh?
Elphin - Nowhere is now here, isn't it? Destination Unknown . . . .! Thanks for the comments, going to leave the queensury boys, it was meant to be sort of a Lenny Maclean/Mad Gypsy Bradshaw sort of reference. As for the other, since the New Year the only poetic consumption has been of this 'ere beefcake of brilliance, so make what you will of that . . . i'm not really that good at compliments, maybe it's always been as good as it is, maybe all of your stuff is all bollocks and this is bollocks and I should go and read some REALpoetry, perhaps I'm and idiot, yeh it's probably that.
Thanks all
Beau
x
Thanks for the positive comments.
Baz - "doesn't mind being kicked off? ". Baz, dude, just jump on the middle door, you think some fat MacDonald's eating TV chewing fat-wod's gonna get up off his polysatured gluteus maximus because someone hasn't paid a quid? And anyway, he's got one of those freedom passes things, all new and shiny it was too. But yeh, but no, basically what you said is what I was tyring to get across . . . so, that's all dandy then.
Oskar/Geoff - thanks for those comments, agree entirely, made a small edit. Oskar, thanks for sharing Uncle Tony, over the moon it could have such a personal connection, the same guy in different trousers . . . at least the repetitive ones are sometimes worth being flexed against you though, eh?
Elphin - Nowhere is now here, isn't it? Destination Unknown . . . .! Thanks for the comments, going to leave the queensury boys, it was meant to be sort of a Lenny Maclean/Mad Gypsy Bradshaw sort of reference. As for the other, since the New Year the only poetic consumption has been of this 'ere beefcake of brilliance, so make what you will of that . . . i'm not really that good at compliments, maybe it's always been as good as it is, maybe all of your stuff is all bollocks and this is bollocks and I should go and read some REALpoetry, perhaps I'm and idiot, yeh it's probably that.
Thanks all
Beau
x
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!
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I'm in agreement, the more times I read this, the more I get. S3 stands out as mentioned and for me, because there is reference to a pronoun. This is where the "he" comes in. It would help a little in S2 but it's not 100% necessary.
I think I must have been on a mental lunch break when I said I didn't go for S2. Rereading it I actually love it and the way it ends mind you.
I can't give you specific in line. Don't know if you need/want it. I wouldn't want to tinker much with this. The voice is tight and well executed.
e
I think I must have been on a mental lunch break when I said I didn't go for S2. Rereading it I actually love it and the way it ends mind you.
I can't give you specific in line. Don't know if you need/want it. I wouldn't want to tinker much with this. The voice is tight and well executed.
e
Hi Beautifulloser
The stanza you cut, for me worked the best, although independently of everything else.
"Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over note of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and screeching."
--Nobody howls anymore.
Maybe I get back to you on the poem itself. I need to read it 89 more times.
The stanza you cut, for me worked the best, although independently of everything else.
"Never found a role, a great mind
from a generation left to think
over note of suicide, dead beat,
worthlessly alone and screeching."
--Nobody howls anymore.
Maybe I get back to you on the poem itself. I need to read it 89 more times.
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Hi Redpond
So, erm, you reckon I should keep the stanza in that I haven't cut out, and pretend the guy was screeching, yeh nice one, I mean like he's a Transformer or something?
Nobody "howls" anymore - let me guess, you don't get out much? Thanks for the thought, but this one is on the done pile now.
Need to read 89 times - ok go ahead, most people just do it once or twice, usually enough to form an opinion.
Over n out - thanks for having a read, Squire.
xx
So, erm, you reckon I should keep the stanza in that I haven't cut out, and pretend the guy was screeching, yeh nice one, I mean like he's a Transformer or something?
Nobody "howls" anymore - let me guess, you don't get out much? Thanks for the thought, but this one is on the done pile now.
Need to read 89 times - ok go ahead, most people just do it once or twice, usually enough to form an opinion.
Over n out - thanks for having a read, Squire.
xx
I'm sick of it, sick of it all. I know I'm right and I don't give a shit!