THIS ONLINE CLASS CAN ONLY WORK IF PEOPLE COMMENT ON POEMS
SO DON'T BE AFRAID TO HAVE YOUR SAY.
original
SO DON'T BE AFRAID TO HAVE YOUR SAY.
original
Gerry Burns
Breuegel
Sky the colour of blue,
Scumbled over paler ground,
And feeling down, deprived of snow,
I shoved my way through crowded streets
To view the Flemish Masters on display,
Stood in awe
Before Herr Breuegel’s masterpiece,
His ‘Massacre of the Innocents’
Transposed to Holland in the snow,
And though, initially,
I took it for a simple,
Snowy, village scene,
With icicles and animals,
And leafless trees a filigree
Against the snow,
A closer look showed soldiers
At their gruesome work,
With wide-eyed mothers pleading
For their children’s lives;
But there will be no rescue
On this day of reckoning;
I felt my blood run cold,
And yet I could not turn away,
Transfixed,
Transformed,
Forgotten was the fact
That I had only stopped to look,
Because I felt deprived of snow.
after i tweaked
BREUEGEL
Sky the colour of blue,
Scum-bled on paler ground
feeling down, deprived of snow,
I shoved my way through crowded streets
To view the Flemish Masters on display,
There I stood in awe before Herr Breuegel’s
Masterpiece: ‘Massacre of the Innocents’
Transposed to Holland
And though, initially,
I took it for a simple,
Village scene with icicles
animals, and leafless trees a filigree
Against the pure white.
A closer look showed soldiers
At their gruesome work,
With wide-eyed mothers pleading
For their children’s lives;
But there will be no rescue
On this day of reckoning;
I felt my blood run cold,
And yet I could not turn
Away transfixed, transformed,
Forgotten that I had only r
stopped to look, because
I felt deprived of snow.
Hi gerry
I tweaked your poem as you had to many
Snowy and snow words in the middle. cool poem.
I changed how it looks on page I hope you don’t
mind. Compare it now to original, a very pure poem
mind. Compare it now to original, a very pure poem
From a fine poet, thanx gerry for sharing.
Gerry if you ponder every word the poem takes
A life of its own form. Read both aloud and send
It the way u want its your poem. Love that word scum- bled
i think it might be a typo but i like it. your poem
you do your way.
you do your way.
AINE
The Gathering 2002 ORIGINAL
Slowly the house crammed to the hilt
like the poor crimbo turkey.
Each room occupied by family
each room a generation of gaps.
Inside the curtained windows
voices rise into the night
like an opera of opinions or
an anthology of wishes.
Missing, the ould pair.
The eldest now drape the fireside
with songs of old Ireland
and a bit of Hogmany thrown in
for good measure.
The twenty-ish gather at the dressing table
exchanging notes on Uni, shots
and the opposite sex, oblivious to
the blethering of family at this time.
The teens storm each room, moaning
about the crap music they hear and low
mobile signals, create tension and take advantage
of the elders tipsy nature.
The 40’s sip wine and recall the days
when The Undertones and Kenny Everette
wher cool and how no one questioned
Morcambe & Wise sharing a bed.
Midnight brings all to the hearth, some
reluctant to link for old times sake.
First kisses of the new year are meted out.
There’s an air of remembrance.
By 12.30 am slowly the house empties.
A trail of singing is heard by the road
The twenties and teens have gone, united
for now they head for the nearest club.
The elders stalk the fireside agreeing and not,
laughing and singing. The 40’s get cosy with thoughts of the
coming year, and more wine.
after i tweaked it hope you like
Slowly the house crammed to the hilt
Missing, the ould pair.
The teens storm each room, moaning
Midnight brings all to the hearth, some
By 12.30 am slowly the house empties.
COOL nice simple images
i only took out crimbo as
its a bit cliched i think turkey
sugggests time ok you had each room
you had twice twice
i split into stanzas like
rooms. if u dont like
changes that ok its your poem.
after i tweaked it hope you like
The Gathering 2002
Slowly the house crammed to the hilt
like the poor turkey. Each room
occupied by family a generation of gaps.
occupied by family a generation of gaps.
Inside the curtained windows
voices rise into the night
like an opera of opinions or
an anthology of wishes.
Missing, the ould pair.
The eldest now drape the fireside
with songs of old Ireland
and a bit of Hogmany thrown in
for good measure.
The twenty-ish gather at the dressing table
The twenty-ish gather at the dressing table
exchanging notes on Uni, shots
and the opposite sex, oblivious to
the blethering of family at this time.
The teens storm each room, moaning
about the crap music they hear and low
mobile signals, create tension and take advantage
of the elders tipsy nature.
The 40’s sip wine and recall the days
The 40’s sip wine and recall the days
when The Undertones and Kenny Everette
wher cool and how no one questioned
Morcambe & Wise sharing a bed.
Midnight brings all to the hearth, some
reluctant to link for old times sake.
First kisses of the new year are meted out.
There’s an air of rememberance.
By 12.30 am slowly the house empties.
A trail of singing is heard by the road
The twenties and teens have gone, united
for now they head for the nearest club.
The elders stalk the fireside agreeing
and not laughing and singing. Thoughts
of the coming year.
and not laughing and singing. Thoughts
of the coming year.
COOL nice simple images
i only took out crimbo as
its a bit cliched i think turkey
sugggests time ok you had each room
you had twice twice
i split into stanzas like
rooms. if u dont like
changes that ok its your poem.
