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    • Michael Stuart Kelly

      New upgrade with simpler interface   05/13/2016

      Once again, the fine folks at IPB made a new upgrade and things might not be where you started to learn they were. However, this is one time where I think they actually improved things for navigation. There are only a few big buttons: When you click on one of those buttons, some other stuff opens up, depending on which button you click. (Later Note: These only appear when zoomed in or in the mode for smartphones/tablets.) I'm learning this as you are, so I suggest you do what I am doing: click on these big buttons, see what they open and fiddle with the software some. Ironically, you will find there is a lot that is intuitive. That's what I'm discovering. (Later note: I just discovered that I was viewing the site zoomed in too far to see the normal view. The menus are still there with the old buttons, but when I zoom in too much, they disappear and the new buttons appear. I believe this zoomed in way is what the site looks like on mobile devices. I'm going to mess with it some more, then maybe make some explanations.) Sorry for the inconvenience. Still, over time, I hope you end up liking these changes. Michael
caroljane

unnamed

36 posts in this topic

Do I forget you?. Dear one, I have tried

just sometimes not to let you bring the tide

so low beneath the rocks I cannot climb,

the caverns of unmasterable time,

so high in flow I swim, I thrash, then drown

in what I cannot believe that so

as the tide ebbs, I swim to go

where far beyond belief or memory,

or darks of lies, or candles that are true,

there is a place where always you must be,

where so am I,that I could be with you.,

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blah... blah ... blah...

Oh! I experienced an emotion!

How deep!

How wonderful!

I must tell everyone in the world!

My feelings.

My joys and sorrows are my jarrows and my soys.

I alone feel these feelings and emote these emotions!

Love is love and (loving) must forgive its abandonment.

Alas.

Alack.

Anon.

The unvoiced labiar velar fricative begs me to inflect.

I am because I must.

I will tell you upfront, Daunce, that I was removed from an Honors English program because I did not understand poetry. I deconstructed it well enough for a C+, but clearly not the B+ required to stay in the program.

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Carol,

A publishable poem. It is excellent!

(Michael EM - How to get my head around your critical rant? It's untrue, unfair and hurtful.

Also unlike what I know of your rational persona.)

Tony

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Lines 6 and 7 be lackin' syllallabulls. Daleks to fix.

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blah... blah ... blah...

Oh! I experienced an emotion!

How deep!

How wonderful!

I must tell everyone in the world!

My feelings.

My joys and sorrows are my jarrows and my soys.

I alone feel these feelings and emote these emotions!

Love is love and (loving) must forgive its abandonment.

Alas.

Alack.

Anon.

The unvoiced labiar velar fricative begs me to inflect.

I am because I must.

I will tell you upfront, Daunce, that I was removed from an Honors English program because I did not understand poetry. I deconstructed it well enough for a C+, but clearly not the B+ required to stay in the program.

lol

You understood it fine, it is only words

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Carol,

A publishable poem. It is excellent!

(Michael EM - How to get my head around your critical rant? It's untrue, unfair and hurtful.

Also unlike what I know of your rational persona.)

Tony

Tony, it did not hurt me, as I did not take it as an attack on me but on amateur pomes in general, which is kind of mean, but fair game. His parody was funny.

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Carol,

Also, you shouldn't mind Michael. He's just being MM.

When he gets bored, he likes to go to the beach and kick over the sand castles of little girls. It's not just for the fun, which it is. It's because he thinks sand flying through the air is somehow profound.

Something to do with the motive power behind the granular flight being the human foot. Man bending nature to his will. Deep stuff.

Also, he likes to congratulate himself on the fact that he saved the little girl a lot of time. Now she doesn't have to wait for the tide to come in and the waves to carry off her castle bit by bit.

"It's not a real castle, anyway," he instructs the little girl, who is stunned into disbelief. "You can't even go inside."

:smile:

Michael

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Lines 6 and 7 be lackin' syllallabulls. Daleks to fix.

Daleks beep to lazy earthling that effusion also lacks two lines, and inner coherence. Daleks scuttle to beer store for case of Moosehead. Daleks good fun when they go mad! Do not exterminate!

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When he gets bored, he likes to go to the beach and kick over the sand castles of little girls. It's not just for the fun, which it is. It's because he thinks sand flying through the air is somehow profound.

Let us not forget that the chief officer of the Daunciad has, on other occasions, held up the “creative” writings of the Objectivish to public scorn. Particularly the efforts that have appeared on OO, which she mocks from the safe distance of OL, in a display of critical cowardice that the ghost of Alexander Pope would surely frown upon. As I noted in one of the many Phil threads, sometimes one must learn the Golden Rule by having others do unto you as you have done unto others.

On the plus side, it’s probably not the worst poem ever written.

Daleks beep to lazy earthling that effusion also lacks two lines, and inner coherence.

Two lines? There are eleven now, if you wanted to write a sonnet, you need how many? Fourteen? And your rhyme scheme is what? AABBCDDEFEF?

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When he gets bored, he likes to go to the beach and kick over the sand castles of little girls. It's not just for the fun, which it is. It's because he thinks sand flying through the air is somehow profound.

Let us not forget that the chief officer of the Daunciad has, on other occasions, held up the “creative” writings of the Objectivish to public scorn. Particularly the efforts that have appeared on OO, which she mocks from the safe distance of OL, in a display of critical cowardice that the ghost of Alexander Pope would surely frown upon. As I noted in one of the many Phil threads, sometimes one must learn the Golden Rule by having others do unto you as you have done unto others.

On the plus side, it’s probably not the worst poem ever written.

Daleks beep to lazy earthling that effusion also lacks two lines, and inner coherence.

Two lines? There are eleven now, if you wanted to write a sonnet, you need how many? Fourteen? And your rhyme scheme is what? AABBCDDEFEF?

Oh, hell, I knew you would notice that. Dunce not great at math. Rhyme scheme lame. Even when fixed this will be no Westminster Bridge, but maybe get yo to San Luis Rey in time for siesta.

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When he gets bored, he likes to go to the beach and kick over the sand castles of little girls. It's not just for the fun, which it is. It's because he thinks sand flying through the air is somehow profound.

Let us not forget that the chief officer of the Daunciad has, on other occasions, held up the “creative” writings of the Objectivish to public scorn. Particularly the efforts that have appeared on OO, which she mocks from the safe distance of OL, in a display of critical cowardice that the ghost of Alexander Pope would surely frown upon. As I noted in one of the many Phil threads, sometimes one must learn the Golden Rule by having others do unto you as you have done unto others.

On the plus side, it’s probably not the worst poem ever written.

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When he gets bored, he likes to go to the beach and kick over the sand castles of little girls. It's not just for the fun, which it is. It's because he thinks sand flying through the air is somehow profound.

Let us not forget that the chief officer of the Daunciad has, on other occasions, held up the “creative” writings of the Objectivish to public scorn. Particularly the efforts that have appeared on OO, which she mocks from the safe distance of OL, in a display of critical cowardice that the ghost of Alexander Pope would surely frown upon. As I noted in one of the many Phil threads, sometimes one must learn the Golden Rule by having others do unto you as you have done unto others.

On the plus side, it’s probably not the worst poem ever written.

Quite right, and I am content with my portion of gander sauce. The worst poem ever written I hope will not be mine, though I could give it the old college try, I still feel the odesters of OO are nearly unbeatable.

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Oh, hell, I knew you would notice that. Dunce not great at math. Rhyme scheme lame. Even when fixed this will be no Westminster Bridge, but maybe get yo to San Luis Rey in time for siesta.

Next time, before venturing into the fray, plan your rhyme scheme, lest ye be skewered.

5 minutes in.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyCEqpMupIc

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Oh, hell, I knew you would notice that. Dunce not great at math. Rhyme scheme lame. Even when fixed this will be no Westminster Bridge, but maybe get yo to San Luis Rey in time for siesta.

Next time, before venturing into the fray, plan your rhyme scheme, lest ye be skewered.

5 minutes in.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyCEqpMupIc

Your advice is 100% right, but I am a chronic second hander and usually let it plan me, and inevitably become a kebab.

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Mem and Ninth Doctor? What is wrong with you cynics? Ninth Doctor’s “Doctor Who”s video illustrates the author’s benevolent attitude to hiring Little People to wear robot suits. Not since the Wizard of Oz’s Munchkins and Willy Wonka’s Oompa Loompas have so many, so small, been paid so little. The BBC’s minimum wage is an insult.

I was an English and Secondary School major and I liked Daunce’s poem. I also love Poe of which it reminded me, and “The Shooting of Dan McGrew” by Canadian, Robert Service. It is a narrative poem first published in “The Songs of a Sourdough,” in 1907 in Canada. What rousing excellence! When I was with an Objectivist College club at the University of Virginia, it was read by two people as we put together a newsletter. Bravo, Danunce! You are in good company.

Peter Taylor

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Peter, thank you. I love Robert Service and memorized a lot of him in early adolescence. I still remember the feeling of the final line "and shot the Prussian soldier dead" of one of his WW1 poems, though I have forgotten its name. It wasn't a great poem, jingoistic, propagandistic, simplistic and all the rest, but it sure did its emotional job.

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Vachel Lindsay was another early fave of mine

"And then came McKinley, Mark Hanna's McKinley

His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes.."

I had no clue then that McKinley was a Us president, and I still don't know who Mark Hanna was, but I loved the poem. There was another one about the Salvation Army...maybe they were the same one? I really should look it up.

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Daunce quoted Vachel Lindsay, “His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes . . ."

What a devastating description. Much better than the ninety’s when George Stephanopoulos was called, “Clinton’s Butt Boy.” See, when Hillary was not receptive, which was nearly always the case, Bill would go to Greek George who would . . . well you get the idea. He would go Seymourblogger on him. Disgusting, radical 60’s free love mutations . . .

Sorry, for the barely subliminal sexual content. I am getting myself ready to support social conservative Rick Santorum. Its tough. I may need to go and be disgusted at some more XXX sites.

Peter Taylor

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Vachel Lindsay was another early fave of mine

"And then came McKinley, Mark Hanna's McKinley

His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes.."

I had no clue then that McKinley was a Us president, and I still don't know who Mark Hanna was, but I loved the poem. There was another one about the Salvation Army...maybe they were the same one? I really should look it up.

Yep...you should, but ...

He was Ohio's Boss Tweed.

Marcus Alonzo "Mark" Hanna (September 24, 1837 – February 15, 1904) was a Republican United States Senator from Ohio and the friend and political manager of President William McKinley. Hanna had made millions as a businessman, and used his money and business skills to successfully manage McKinley's presidential campaigns in 1896 and 1900.

Hanna was born in New Lisbon (today Lisbon), Ohio, in 1837. His family moved to the growing city of Cleveland in his teenage years, where he attended high school with John D. Rockefeller. He was expelled from college, and entered the family mercantile business. He served briefly during the American Civil War and married Charlotte Rhodes; her father, Daniel Rhodes, took Hanna into his business after the war. Hanna was soon a partner in the firm, which grew to have interests in many areas, especially coal and iron. He was a wealthy man in Cleveland by his 40th birthday, and turned his attention to politics.

Despite Hanna's efforts on his behalf, Ohio Senator John Sherman failed to gain the Republican nomination for president in 1884 and 1888. With Sherman becoming too old to be considered a contender, Hanna worked to elect McKinley. In 1895, Hanna left his business career to devote himself full time to McKinley's campaign for president. Hanna paid all expenses to get McKinley the nomination the following year, although the governor was in any event the frontrunner. The Democrats nominated former Nebraska Congressman William Jennings Bryan, who ran on a bimetallism, or "Free Silver", platform. Hanna's fundraising broke records, and once initial public enthusiasm for Bryan and his program subsided, McKinley was comfortably elected.

Declining a Cabinet position, Hanna secured appointment as senator from Ohio after Sherman was made Secretary of State; he was re-elected by the Ohio Legislature in 1898 and 1904. After McKinley's assassination in 1901, Senator Hanna worked for the building of a canal in Panama, rather than elsewhere in Central America. He died in 1904, and is remembered for his role in McKinley's election, thanks to savage cartoons by such illustrators as Homer Davenport, who depicted him, inaccurately, as McKinley's political master.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Hanna

He was a one man PAC [Political Action Committee]

Adam

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Vachel Lindsay was another early fave of mine

"And then came McKinley, Mark Hanna's McKinley

His slave, his echo, his suit of clothes.."

I had no clue then that McKinley was a Us president, and I still don't know who Mark Hanna was, but I loved the poem. There was another one about the Salvation Army...maybe they were the same one? I really should look it up.

Yep...you should, but ...

He was Ohio's Boss Tweed.

Marcus Alonzo "Mark" Hanna (September 24, 1837 – February 15, 1904) was a Republican United States Senator from Ohio and the friend and political manager of President William McKinley. Hanna had made millions as a businessman, and used his money and business skills to successfully manage McKinley's presidential campaigns in 1896 and 1900.

Hanna was born in New Lisbon (today Lisbon), Ohio, in 1837. His family moved to the growing city of Cleveland in his teenage years, where he attended high school with John D. Rockefeller. He was expelled from college, and entered the family mercantile business. He served briefly during the American Civil War and married Charlotte Rhodes; her father, Daniel Rhodes, took Hanna into his business after the war. Hanna was soon a partner in the firm, which grew to have interests in many areas, especially coal and iron. He was a wealthy man in Cleveland by his 40th birthday, and turned his attention to politics.

Despite Hanna's efforts on his behalf, Ohio Senator John Sherman failed to gain the Republican nomination for president in 1884 and 1888. With Sherman becoming too old to be considered a contender, Hanna worked to elect McKinley. In 1895, Hanna left his business career to devote himself full time to McKinley's campaign for president. Hanna paid all expenses to get McKinley the nomination the following year, although the governor was in any event the frontrunner. The Democrats nominated former Nebraska Congressman William Jennings Bryan, who ran on a bimetallism, or "Free Silver", platform. Hanna's fundraising broke records, and once initial public enthusiasm for Bryan and his program subsided, McKinley was comfortably elected.

Declining a Cabinet position, Hanna secured appointment as senator from Ohio after Sherman was made Secretary of State; he was re-elected by the Ohio Legislature in 1898 and 1904. After McKinley's assassination in 1901, Senator Hanna worked for the building of a canal in Panama, rather than elsewhere in Central America. He died in 1904, and is remembered for his role in McKinley's election, thanks to savage cartoons by such illustrators as Homer Davenport, who depicted him, inaccurately, as McKinley's political master.

http://en.wikipedia....wiki/Mark_Hanna

He was a one man PAC [Political Action Committee]

Adam

As ever, thanks Adam. The PACs are distorting (or maybe) making transparent, the mechanics of who gets elected. Each president now will be somebody's slave and echo, and once elected, they will have to buy their own clothes. Rich people are notoriously stingy on the small scale.

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Do I forget you?. Dear one, I have tried

just sometimes not to let you bring the tide

so low beneath the rocks I cannot climb,

the caverns of unmasterable time,

so high in flow I swim, I thrash, then drown

in what I cannot believe that so

as the tide ebbs, I swim to go

where far beyond belief or memory,

or darks of lies, or candles that are true,

there is a place where always you must be,

where so am I,that I could be with you.,

Daleks fix somewhat; Daleks are Daleks, not Alfred Lord bloody Tennyson. Do best can for now.

Sonnet form be damn

At Hopewell Rocks

Do I forget you? Surely I have tried

to stumble past the caverns I can't climb,

and wade out from the too-oncoming tide,

and live beyond what surely was my time.

But never think I would not give today

To give you just one more of yesterday ,

Or seek the slack between the ebb and flow,

Where everywhere and always we could go..

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Daleks fix somewhat; Daleks are Daleks, not Alfred Lord bloody Tennyson. Do best can for now.

Sonnet form be damn

At Hopewell Rocks

Do I forget you? Surely I have tried

to stumble past the caverns I can't climb,

and wade out from the too-oncoming tide,

and live beyond what surely was my time.

But never think I would not give today

To give you just one more of yesterday ,

Or seek the slack between the ebb and flow,

Where everywhere and always we could go..

Alright, now we have ababccdd. For the hell of it, let's just knock it into shape, strictly following Shakespeare's format (ababcdcdefefgg).

Do I forget you? Surely I have tried

to stumble past the caverns I can't climb,

and wade out from the too-oncoming tide,

and live beyond what surely was my time.

But never think I would not give today

or seek the slack between the ebb and flow,

to give you just one more of yesterday ,

where everywhere and always we could go..

Pursued by an unforgiving Dalek

when through time my guide was the Doc called Ninth,

not wailing as a newborn with colic;

Kantian Sublime in my soul did shin’th

through darks of lies, and candles that are true,

where I am, so that I could be with you.

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O tide! Neap not until thou neap'st the Doc

Upon the pate, and then the proud buttock!

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Daunce wrote:

O tide! Neap not until thou neap'st the Doc

Upon the pate, and then the proud buttock!

end quote

What does that mean? Time should not stop until it shrinks your bald spot and makes your butt less noticeable? You do know that time stops for no one don’t you? And I like women with proud buttocks. Well, you got a rise out of me, Miss Saucy Pants.

Peter Taylor

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