John Cage 100: Three Cheers......
rawatorioirotawar rawatorioirotawar rawatorioirotawar
awatorioirotawa awatorioirotawa awatorioirotawa
watorioirotaw watorioirotaw watorioirotaw
atorioirota atorioirota atorioirota
torioirot torioirot torioirot
orioiro orioiro orioiro
rioir rioir rioir
ioi ioi ioi
o o o
ioi ioi ioi
rioir rioir rioir
oriorro orioiro orioiro
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
GrouchO
..........................a red-capped
black-faced
black-shirted
red-pantsed
red-suede-shoe
man
sauntered along the south side of north terrace
over the road from the railway station.
Not ten metres away
a man,
chin
lower-lip
upper-lip
bright green,
wondered
if he would join the club
that would have him as a member.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Big Other. Alternate Version
My television wouldn't work.
I went and bought Big Other.
I watched the triumph of The Crows
In splendid vivid colour.
I watched a hired DVD:
Matt Dillon in his prime.
I then put on The West Wing-
No picture showed this time.
I took it all back to the shop
Where soon we would take succour:
The fault lay not in new Big Other
But in my player, Mother......!
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
B: XVI: Fear In Sorrow
Sorrow must like
putting itself on show.
Yet you never see it all.
It doesn't have that winning drive
and keeps some back to stay alive,
afraid that saying, 'All is sorrow',
would spell the end to morrow.
'I have no illusions, friend, '
said sorrow, knowing everything.
'I will give you some relief
from the unknown deep.
Tonight I'll give you dreamless sleep.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Alternatives....
...........................is it...........................
................ ..........ART or CRAFT........................
............... thought order hand work....................
.........hand work laid aside thought order laid aside.....
.............hand unsatisfied thought unsatisfied..........
..............ordered thought worked hand..................
?
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Poetmother Requires Artful Seduction
At night in bed
my darling said,
'You're as sweet as ever you were.'
'Your mistress of disguise, '
I replied to his obvious lies.
Giving credit to my reason,
he cooed into my ear,
'All past sweets lie still in you,
my darling, still in me,
and they will have their blending,
and we'll get...
...we'll get...
...we'll get...
...happy ending.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Les Fleurs des Mots: Paul the Roo
Rivals at roo delivery
Feeling rude and livery
After revelry at the Rivoli
Sought ruder revelry
At the Rue de Rivoli.
They threw a roo
Into the Seine.
Paul was never
seen again.
If they'd settled for ruder reverie,
Those rude arrivals
could have had their ruder reverie
At the Rue de Rivoli
And Paul would be okay.
But reverie ain't revelry
And Paul's now in Bay Biscay.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Xmas Wish
Around Xmas time
A star and a tree
Have never failed to reward
When I sought some inspiration
For my annual wishing card.
A tree
Can be made
Of the dust of stars
And a star
can be made
of trees.
When invited to toast,
Whatever it is
You hold in your hand
There's your hand
In whatever you hold.
Whatever you hold
In your eye
[...] Read more
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
On Our Selection
Life-fearing man selects material-wise,
Rejects or knows not wisdom-
Ever more self and envious eyes
Are accompanying compensation.
Blindness and enmity
Conclude life's sensation.
He could have jumped off
When he reached the top
Or eased his descent with a pension,
Kept at bay the above-mentioned tension,
No wiser than he ever had been
But proud he'd picked pocketting green.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Song of the Vineyard
However good the convener's intentions,
A grave will crash a party
To deliberately and perversely
Hasten its end,
The convener will cede control,
Either stoking the fires of pride
Or retreating to a hole;
And what the prophet said
About a grave and its appetite,
That there is no limit to the ability
Of the grave to satisfy its cravings,
Will be proved to be manifestly right.
poem by Douglas Scotney
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!