[b]Poem:

Haunted Houses
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807 - 1882
All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,—

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.[/b]

Do to unforeseen circumstances we will not be having class tonight. Everest and I send our regrets. We will return at 9pm next week. Thank you.

texanomaly:
Do to unforeseen circumstances we will not be having class tonight. Everest and I send our regrets. We will return at 9pm next week. Thank you.

Why

MaZterZ:


Why

I'll try to get something together tomorrow night, if that that would help. No one has been around. I honestly didn't think anyone would notice.

texanomaly:


I'll try to get something together tomorrow night, if that that would help. No one has been around. I honestly didn't think anyone would notice.

Been following closely......would be waiting then

MaZterZ:


Been following closely......would be waiting then

Thanks for following. We all appreciate you.

Here are a few new poetry prompts.


Object Poem - become an object and write about your life as a raindrop, blade of grass, tooth, or mp3 player.


Found Poem - using your favorite book, identify particular words and write a poem.


List Poem - Using an object, experience or feeling as inspiration to brainstorm a list.


Sensory Poem - Using an object or experience, think of all the sensory feelings associated with it and write a poem.

Watch out for this space




Watch out

Looking around,searching for someone,
Don't really know who it is,
But I can feel some eyes on my neck,
Maybe someone is also searching or prying on me.

EverestdeBliu:
Looking around,searching for someone,
Don't really know who it is,
But I can feel some eyes on my neck,
Maybe someone is also searching or prying on me.

How far Eve? Who emerged?

laykorn:
How far Eve? Who emerged?

I knew it!
I felt eyes behind me,so twas you?
Well,Jigsawkillah took it up!
The ship is safe n sailing.
The class is back...tell 'em all,there'd b a class tomorrow and henceforth,hopefully.
Things are restructuring.
How have u been?

Right about now

Rolls in on a bike,
Slants it on a tree,the lime
Walks in,without minding the time...
*shakes hand with d guys,n waves @d ladies*
...Hello class!

ride on sir

Maahn!...I'm inspired n re-awakened...my word bank need b credited,rushes to pay in 'words' into my account.

cisse7575:
I used to sit down near osun river right up at the end by the dam bridge, where no one could disturb me and write a few character sketches of the people I see around me.

(Nodding)

[b] Writing creatively takes a peculiar kind of concentration. A concentration that develops its own little habits and tripwires to help set it off. We always want to know HOW authors write, as if their behavioural patterns might be an indicator of how to do it ourselves. But these habits are as idiosyncratic as the writer: Mr Everest could only write if he eat FUFU, Donifez only when his girl is not around, Gloria likes to write in bed, longhand, between the hours of midnight and 2am,. And if I'm milling over a problem, I'll go out for a long drive and play the car stereo really loud.

Don't expect to write a whole poem or story in one breath. If you get stuck halfway through a piece, be prepared to go back and start again. Make notes on your story or poems, your character, your use or words, your rhythm, iambic, your setting. Though it nay feel like treading water, like the notes aren't 'proper' writing, they are essential to the process of developing a sense of what you want to say and of finding the added layers of character and setting or rhythm that will make the craft convincing. [/b]

question: I'm the type that gets easily tired once I'm holding a pen and feel like sleeping off
what should I do?

cisse7575:
Mr Everest could only write if he eat FUFU...

Woh!,I do not concur with this one o (grins)