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Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 4:29am On Mar 27, 2015

cisse7575:
glad you came. Thanks even though you never write us a poetry where you use an object

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 11:48pm On Mar 26, 2015

Buqqui:
Grabs a sit by Texanomaly.
So excited to see her.
Qaisar1. Hallo!
gloriaz. hi!

Hi. Guys. Had to leave and come back to read.

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 11:47pm On Mar 26, 2015

Qaisar1:
*waves uncontrollably *

Lol...hello

Sorry I had to go. I came back to read.

Forum Games › Re: ~<<The Last Person To Post In This Thread Wins>>~ by texanomaly(f): 8:37pm On Mar 26, 2015

Is it still closed, or can I post now?

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 8:35pm On Mar 26, 2015

I'm here early...guess I'll just wait for others.
*sits and reads*

Jokes Etc › And you think you got "go slow"! by texanomaly(op): 1:31pm On Mar 26, 2015*

attention: Duck stampede

shocked

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/video/news/video-1102018/Thousands-ducks-stampede-Thailand-road.html

Forum Games › Re: ~<<The Last Person To Post In This Thread Wins>>~ by texanomaly(f): 3:07am On Mar 26, 2015

Christianity Etc › Re: The Non-Christian Chatbox ( sticky ) by texanomaly(f): 9:28pm On Mar 19, 2015

ooman:
And you also did.

Lol...Oops I did it again. tongue

Romance › Re: I Call Her And She Comes Running. by texanomaly(f): 9:26pm On Mar 19, 2015

AlfaSeltzer:
Your signature is xenophobic.

Yours is funny.

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:23pm On Mar 19, 2015

*Runs into classroom*

"Sorry I'm late."

*takes the first available seat*

Christianity Etc › Re: The Non-Christian Chatbox ( sticky ) by texanomaly(f): 6:05pm On Mar 18, 2015

Wow! People still comment here.

Forum Games › Re: ~<<The Last Person To Post In This Thread Wins>>~ by texanomaly(f): 5:58pm On Mar 18, 2015

I'm back! Get outa my chair. angry

Romance › Re: I Call Her And She Comes Running. by texanomaly(f): 5:44pm On Mar 18, 2015

You got me here. What now? undecided

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:58pm On Mar 15, 2015

[b]Descriptive Meditating
According to poet Corey Marks, the descriptive-meditative structure is a kind of dramatic monologue that has three parts: it opens with the description of a scene, then (often due to an external trigger) turns to an interior meditation (for example, the expression and/or consideration of memories, concerns, anticipation), and then turns to a re-description of the scene, a scene that now seems different due to the changed mindset of the poem’s speaker.

One example of a poem with a descriptive meditating turn is:

(It's very long...sorry)

Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur.—Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.

These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,—
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft—
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, not any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.—And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance—
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence—wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love—oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake![/b]

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:48pm On Mar 15, 2015

[b]Mid-course

According to poet [Jerry Harp], a poem that employs a mid-course turn is one that employs a particularly sharp, radical turn.

One example of a poem with a mid-course turn is:

"Old Man Traveling"

by William Wordsworth.

The little hedge-row birds,
That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression; every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought—He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten, one to whom
Long patience has such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing, of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold
With envy, what the old man hardly feels.
—I asked him whither he was bound, and what
The object of his journey; he replied
"Sir! I am going many miles to take
A last leave of my son, a mariner,
Who from a sea-fight has been brought to Falmouth,
And there is dying in an hospital."[/b]

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:48pm On Mar 15, 2015

Phew...that was long

Forum Games › Re: ~<<The Last Person To Post In This Thread Wins>>~ by texanomaly(f): 9:42pm On Mar 15, 2015

dre11:
^^^

Its being long have seen your presence here

How was the week

Great week last week. This one coming up is even better. I have a weeks holiday. grin

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:31pm On Mar 15, 2015

[b]Dialectical Argument
According to poet John Beer, the dialectical argument structure is essentially a three-part structure. It turns from thesis (one argumentative position) to antithesis (a counterpoint to the thesis) to a synthesis, which combines the two seemingly opposing views.

One example of a poem with a dialectical argument is:

"Some Days"

by Billy Collins

Some days I put the people in their places at the table,
bend their legs at the knees,
if they come with that feature,
and fix them into the tiny wooden chairs.

All afternoon they face one another,
the man in the brown suit,
the woman in the blue dress,
perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved.

But other days, I am the one
who is lifted up by the ribs,
then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse
to sit with the others at the long table.

Very funny,
but how would you like it
if you never knew from one day to the next
if you were going to spend it

striding around like a vivid god,
your shoulders in the clouds,
or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper,
staring straight ahead with your little plastic face?[/b]

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:27pm On Mar 15, 2015

[b]Retrospective-Prospective
The retrospective-prospective structure is a two-part structure that begins with a consideration of past events and then turns to look ahead to the future or else look a present situation differently.

One example of a retrospective-prospective turn is:

Daffodils

by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.[/b]

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:26pm On Mar 15, 2015

cc
Gloriaz
gladyys
Gottoboy
firestar
harlos
Oma4u

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:20pm On Mar 15, 2015

[b]Emblem
The emblem structure is a two-part structure that turns from an organized description of an object to a meditation on, a consideration of, the meaning of that object.

In this poem is an example of an emblem turn:

"A Green Crabs She'll"

by Mark Doty.

Not, exactly, green:
closer to bronze
preserved in kind brine,

something retrieved
from a Greco-Roman wreck,
patinated and oddly

muscular. We cannot
know what his fantastic
legs were like—

though evidence
suggests eight
complexly folded

scuttling works
of armament, crowned
by the foreclaws'

gesture of menace
and power. A gull's
gobbled the center,

leaving this chamber
—size of a demitasse—
open to reveal

a shocking, Giotto blue.
Though it smells
of seaweed and ruin,

this little traveling case
comes with such lavish lining!
Imagine breathing

surrounded by
the brilliant rinse
of summer's firmament.

What color is
the underside of skin?
Not so bad, to die,

if we could be opened
into this—
if the smallest chambers

of ourselves,
similarly,
revealed some sky.[/b]

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:16pm On Mar 15, 2015

TYPES OF TURNS:

Poet-critic Ellen Bryant Voigt, in her essay "The Flexible Lyric" suggests that all kinds of poems turn and these poems can be classified according to the ways they turn. Poetic turns can be narrative or dramatic just as a turn might signal a move from premise to conclusion, a turn might also consist of a transition from one emotional state to another.

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:12pm On Mar 15, 2015

According to poet-critic Phillis Levin, "We could say that for the sonnet, the volta is the seat of its soul." Additionally, Levin states that "the arrangement of lines into patterns of sound serves a function we could call architectural, for these various acoustical partitions accentuate the element that gives the sonnet its unique force and character: the volta, the 'turn’ that introduces into the poem a possibility for transformation, like a moment of grace."

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:10pm On Mar 15, 2015

Lol...network is slow and crazy here tonight sorry.

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:09pm On Mar 15, 2015

cisse7575:
I dey class oo

Welcome

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:09pm On Mar 15, 2015

cisse7575:
I dey class oo

Welcome!

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 9:06pm On Mar 15, 2015

Tonight we've chosen the volta, or "the turn", in poetry.

Volta, ( Italian: “turn”) the turn in thought in a sonnet that is often indicated by such initial words as But, Yet, or And yet.

Music/Radio › Re: What is your favorite video or song lyrics? by texanomaly(op): 4:59pm On Mar 14, 2015

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYs6ZpsKvZQ

This version is even better. This is a very sexy video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4aC9t6UIPg

Forum Games › Re: ~<<The Last Person To Post In This Thread Wins>>~ by texanomaly(f): 2:42pm On Mar 13, 2015

dre11:
Where is texanomaly self

Present!

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 10:30pm On Mar 08, 2015

EverestdeBliu:
@Texanomaly
"Children grow thin,
As coffers swell
And pockets grow heavy.
Coaxing Charlatan’s begin
And mothers say Amen"
*
...I've been ransacking my mind for the past 30+mins,seeking for an amiable title for such imagery-packed-piece,but haven't got none yet...I can see why its still untitled. Ms,u killed it...thumbs up;the 2nd stanza got me thinking,I've read it more than 5time,and it still sound fresh.

Thank you Everest.

Poems For Review › Re: Poetry Classes For Beginners - NPC (Signup Thread) by texanomaly(f): 10:08pm On Mar 08, 2015

Qaisar1:
*scratches head* I'm trying something else

Sorry I missed this. Nice

More more please.

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