Gemma's ~~~ "Greyscale Territory" ~~~~~~~ Poetic Songlines: anger

Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts

Friday, June 11, 2010

Pantoum for An Anger Persona

Collage by Gemma Wiseman ~ My winter fire + footprints on Dromana beach sands, Mornington Peninsula
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Big Tent Poetry prompt ~ An experiment in anger management
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Wicked, wily, fickle winds
No respect for sensitive cultures
Bruising our precious, natural skins
Devouring our minds like shameless vultures

No respect for sensitive cultures
Sour jets of bitter rain
Devouring our souls like shameless vultures
Mocking our wrenching, wretched inner pain

Sour jets of bitter rain
Vile vortex of shameless indifference
Mocking our hapless, wretched inner pain
Cursing our blot, our insignificance

Vile vortex of shameless indifference
Natural power always wins
Cursing their blot, their insignificance
Their wicked, wily, fickle winds

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Archive of Blog Quotes

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman

Over 50! And Motoring!

T.S.Eliot's poetry has never failed to intoxicate me! In fact, his sunlight on a broken column, his midnights and lamp posts, his female rhythms mouthing Michelangelo pleasantries are all bound up in the "overwhelming question" of our real biorhythms and souls! ~ We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out. ~~~~Ray Bradbury ~~~~ Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. ~~~Anton Chekhov ~~~ Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music. ~Angela Monet

AUSTRALIAN BLOGGER

Footfalls echo in the memory, Down the passage which we did not take, Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.- T.S.Eliot .............................. My page was too white/My ink was too thin/The day wouldn’t write/What the night pencilled in -'The Book of Longing' Leonard Cohen..................... Creative discord of fractured harmonies! Between the Question and the Answer is A Hush... A Whisper... A Dreaming...

The grit of raw desert lands whirls on the winds in erotic rhythms - sometimes. - Greyscale

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Friday, June 11, 2010

Pantoum for An Anger Persona

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