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badger11

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  1. Thanks Tony for staying with this. I'm still tinkering so hopefully I haven't lost the clarity. best Phil
  2. Thanks David. Appreciate the encouragement. PMO is my first place for posting and my constant place for revision. Thanks to Tony I can come here and tinker with poems both old and new. best badge
  3. comforter pulled close outside singing colours bathe in a crocus bloom
  4. I empathise with your hesitancy - comma/ellipsis/dash is a lot of orchestrating for one line, but perhaps necessary for the reading you intend. Of course, that is the challenge of a formal structure That is what I pictured/presumed. Still thinking on...
  5. the birthing of Spring came this morning waking me to delay our day
  6. Definitely, I didn't/wouldn't pause in the reading without the punctuation. Perhaps lowers conveys more the hopelessness of ambition? A considered acceptance? Not sure. drops has a compulsive suddenness/pull. best Phil
  7. Thanks for the thumbs up Tony. Possibly the early stages of this one. best Phil
  8. Thank you very much Tony. craves/her may be an option - another revision best Phil
  9. Yes, fluidity is an apt choice by Tink. I always feel enriched by a Tony poem. I certainly relate to that familiar theme of distances, threads that pull the past into the present and yet serve to emphasize times past. I did wonder about dropping again, but the inevitablity and repetition of remembering is important. Intimacy gained and lost made real in the hands/skin image. I liked the line break on drops, though I thought of closes for an option, with the cold reflections of passing clouds/jets pointing to a detachment from life. Thank you for sharing best Phil
  10. revision5 I count cracks in the tarmac, paint a zebra crossing while I wait. Rumours murmur along the black and white - a menace of lionesses. Down the City Road the confusion of motors fuse into the green man beeping frantic bonhomie, wiring commuters like marionettes to bruise and compass me across the Serengeti. A thirst drives the stiletto hooves, potholes wait for the heedless, but I tip-toe a zig-zag path through the herd. The red man stares at me. ==================================================================== revision4 I count cracks in the tarmac, paint a zebra crossing while I wait. Rumours murmur along the black and white - a menace of lionesses.. Down the City Road the confusion of motors fuse into the green man beeping. The prattling stream of commuters begins to bruise and compass me across the Serengeti. Hyenas conniving, never faraway. A thirst drives the stiletto of hooves, potholes ready for the unwary, but I tip-toe a zig-zag path through the herd. The red man stares at me. revision3 She counts cracks in the tarmac, paints a zebra crossing while she waits. Rumours murmur along the black and white - the purr of lionesses. By this roadside the confusion of motors fuse into the green man beeping. The prattling stream of commuters begins to bruise and compass her across the Serengeti. A thirst drives the thunder of hooves, potholes promise like waterholes, but she tip-toes her own zig-zag path. The red man stares at her. ============================================================ revision2 She counts the cracks in tarmac, paints a zebra crossing while she waits. Rumours murmur along the black and white. By this roadside the confusion of motors fuse into the green man beeping. The prattling stream of commuters begin to bruise and compass her across the Serengeti. A thirst drives the herd. The potholes promise like waterholes. She tip-toes a zig-zag of cracks. The red man stares at her. ======================================================= revision She counts the cracks in walls, mind walks a zebra crossing. Rumours murmur along the black and white shore of waking. By this roadside the confusion of motors fuse into the green man beeping. The prattling stream of commuters bruise and compass her across the Serengeti. A thirst drives the herd. original She counts the cracks in walls and mind walks a zebra crossing. Rumours murmur along the black and white shore of waking. By this roadside the confusion of motors fuse to the green man. The prattling stream of morning bruises compass her across the Serengeti.
  11. The conversation of poets is in their poetry. These conversations have been continuing for thousands of years best badge
  12. Smoothly done B,, a clear progression in the sonnet. enjoyed badge
  13. Happiness to both of you. Of course, I am aware you are always close-by!
  14. revision3 The Centurion traces finger bones in dust, wants the cradle of a smile: that hint of melting ice, mosaic light waking on frosted oak, her warmth. He breathes the breath of catacombs, of miserly gods that hoard whispers. His legion rusted to bracken, now he hears their sighs in haunted places. revision2 The little boy traces finger bones in dust, wants the cradle of a smile: that hint of melting ice, mosaic light waking on frosted oak, her warmth. He breathes the breath of catacombs, of miserly gods that hoard whispers, his childhood prayers play solitaire. He sleeps with sighs in haunted places. revision1 The Centurion traces finger bones in dust, wants the cradle of a smile: that hint of melting ice, mosaic light waking on frosted oak, her warmth. He breathes the breath of catacombs, of miserly gods that hoard whispers. His legion rusted to bracken, now he hears the sighs in haunted places. revision The Centurion traces fingerbones in dust, wants the cradle of a smile: that hint of melting ice, mosaic light waking on frosted oak, her warmth. He breathes the breath of catacombs, of miserly gods that hoard whispers; the childhood prayers play solitaire, he sleeps with sighs in haunted places. original The Centurian traces fingerbones in dust, wants the cradle of her smile: that hint of melting ice, mosaic light waking on frosted oak, her warmth. He breathes the breath of catacombs, of miserly gods that hoard whispers, where prayers play their solitaire. He sleeps with sighs from misted places.
  15. hi Tink Reminds me that we are like any other creature when nature unleashes such weather. Snuggled is the right retreat in such circumstances. best badge