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Where are the weird poets ? (08/06/01 12:46:55) Reply
    She had looked at her breasts
    now longer and not as erect
    as they had been and saw
    herself twenty years older
    than she was and reminded me
    that when she was 50 I'd
    only be 41 and she knew something
    of 41 year old men and 20 year old girls
    but as her breasts fell to my lips
    she couldn't see that they
    were more beautiful than ever
    and the standard by which all breasts
    would be judged the breasts
    that fell to my son's lips
    and mine and more important
    than anything
    they were hers
gs

Nothing weird here (08/06/01 13:11:35) Reply
    http://homepage.dtn.ntl.com/aeranthes/Mac1.htm

    (Louis MacNeice, of course)

    Look at the site, read the words, and enjoy.

    (I lifted it from here: http://users.iafrica.com/j/jo/johnson/assorted.htm)

    MEETING POINT
    Time was away and somewhere else
    There were two glasses and two chairs
    And two people with one pulse
    (Somebody stopped the moving stairs):
    Time was away and somewhere else.

    And they were neither up nor down
    The stream's music did not stop
    Flowing through heather, limpid brown,
    Although they sat in a coffee shop
    And they were neither up nor down.

    The bell was silent in the air
    Holding its inverted poise --
    Between the clang and clang a flower,
    A brazen calyx of no noise:
    The bell was silent in the air.

    The camels crossed the miles of sand
    That stretched around the cups and plates;
    The desert was their own, they planned
    To portion out the stars and dates:
    The camels crossed the miles of sand.

    Time was away and somewhere else.
    The waiter did not come, the clock
    Forgot them and the radio waltz
    Came out like water from a rock:
    Time was away and somewhere else.

    Her fingers flicked away the ash
    That bloomed again in tropic trees
    Not caring if the markets crash
    When they had forests such as these,
    Her fingers flicked away the ash.

    God or whatever means the Good
    Be praised that time can stop like this,
    That what the heart has understood
    Can verify in the body's peace
    God or whatever means the Good.

    Time was away and she was here
    And life no longer what it was,
    The bell was silent in the air
    And all the room aglow because
    Time was away and she was here.

    Louis MacNeice
e

Re: Where are the weird poets ? (08/06/01 17:56:37) Reply
    Sorry,......but your own poems are better, Gregor. Much better.
Kassandra

Re: looks like nobody dare to ask, (11/06/01 20:48:04) Reply
    where is the link to those poems?
dom

Re: Re: looks like nobody dare to ask, (12/06/01 10:16:39) Reply
    You can may mail me, I won't publish it for reasons you know.
    On the other hand: You should know it, anyway :-))
gs


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