04/27/2008 09:27:41 AM · #1
|The challenge that's within this thread,
is speak your thoughts in rhymes,
For if you speak in prose...face red,
We'll read it 'nother time!
It may confuse those who don't use,
this type of rhyming scheme,
But TIME it takes your point to make,
while feeling less,...it seems!
So, if you'd like to serious jest,
and show your "strong" debate,
Then, Jump on in and thus begin,
the test upon your plate!
The rules are these,...so note them please,
that we begin some FUN!
For when youse sees I've no disease,
We'll know the vict'ry's won!
The words you use are only yours,
no "button quotes" in here,
The words themselves will thus endure,
'mid famous quotes as clear!
If now you can believe your eyes,
some thoughts are "out-of-bounds,"
No Politics will speak their mind,
nor God-talk will be found!
We speak of things we all may know!
Photography is first,
With Nature, Nurture, List will grow,
For Knowledge slates our thirst!
04/27/2008 09:27:54 AM · #2
|Title: The Camera's a Bit Obscure!
Body: The camera's a bit obscure!
You doubt? THAT seems so clear!
But science meanings do endure,
as "Camera Oscura" here!
We let a little light come in,
upon our pixels...film,
We hope somes challenges to win,
with HDR's light rim!
We practice daily and do seek,
to be the better man,
But 'mid the ISO's we tweak,
are ladies' other plans!
So, Canons, Sonys, Pentax blaze,
to keep their owners sharp,
Olympus and the FinePix craze,
are near to other hearts!
The sum of all the macro flors,
do often many choke,
But same the "Bottom-Feeder Bores!"
Our little joke we poke!
Quite ravenous all photogs we,
must have something to do,
Side Challenges all scope do we,
and Yoda-speak for you!
Now end I do this tedious tome,
of rhyming, lighting test,
That when we speak, we'll ne'er assume,
The worst, but always best!
04/27/2008 11:39:07 AM · #3
|Oscura's not obscure but "dark,"
and camera means "room",
a sort of portable boudoir
or humble mini-tomb
wherein one window, mostly closed,
on occasion winks,
its flash of inspiration froze,
as words go stiff with ink.
04/27/2008 12:52:49 PM · #4
|Point and Shoot, now thatís my game
no difficult concepts here
depth of field and shutter speed
these words are so unclear.
I just want to see something,
and take the shot quite well
then off to Wal-mart, print it off
followed by, a show and tell.
Happy snaps are fine for me
because, thatís what I do best
keep it simple, have some fun
And bug**r all the rest.
04/27/2008 02:27:17 PM · #5
|Not gloriously, but sadly, hanging on,
the White Ship shivers at the cusp of dawn.
The paper albatross dips, and reveals
(in the White Wings) a Whiteness that conceals.
"No way home against the wind!" taunts porpoise,
the while sharks nibble madly at the corpus
delicti, and some whalejudge from a Black Sea
steams at the universe of poetry.
Words whirled, the White Words, vanish without trace.
Moray's a bailiff with a gaping face.
Anemone greets Hydra in the jury:
both bored, they stifle yawns. It's an old story,
Breughel's Icarus uttering once again
(this time in verse) the solitude of pain.
The judge, of course, has heard it all before;
he thinks, in fact, that poetry is a bore,
And has no business standing at the bench.
He wanders. He dreams of some flukey wench
and hears, at a great distance, his brothers singing.
He is the whale, and the White Ship winging
its hapless course is surface-bound forever,
chaste in the wind, the wind that whispers "Never!"
to all who plead the case of the raped poem,
the word that, wounded, cannot find its home.
Message edited by author 2008-04-27 14:28:08.
04/27/2008 05:51:03 PM · #6
|Great Thanks, I give to those who've come,
to share a verse or two,
For Blessings bring a worthy sum,
of honor just for you!
To learn once more new meaning rare,
does stand alone as great!
In future I'll take better care,
of Latin on my plate!
So, Thanks to you, wise poet crew,
for sharing knowledge here,
Someday when blissful life is through,
mayhaps the picture's clear!
04/27/2008 08:43:44 PM · #7
|If it's Latin that you crave
say "camera obscura."
Don't find some Italian knave
in a camera oscura!
04/28/2008 12:03:49 AM · #8
|The weather is a subject safe,
when meeting those quite new,
We're taught that being in good taste,
is something we should do!
How grateful I'm that years ago,
a weather vane received,
Was made of nylon rope and tow,
t'was thus in vain conceived!
Instructions were a note attached,
that simple it would be,
"Just hang this on a nail and watch,
"1. Now, if it moves upon the nail,
so quick all forth and back,
"You may be stationed in a gale
It's windy, Simple Jack!
"2. Yet, if it seems all moist, e'en soaked,
then we would have you know,
" It's raining where you live, No Joke!
inside you'd better go!
"3. The day the vane is warm and dry,
we think that you will see,
" The sun's a-beaming from the sky,
it's lotioned back for me!"
04/29/2008 12:35:09 AM · #9
|So, how was the day that started your week?
Was Monday quite kind? A day full of grace?
Or did it bring tears to both of your cheeks?
I trust that remembrance smiled o'er all your face!
Good morrow to thee, a Tuesday it be,
a workday of lessened duress,
May blessings you see! Creations be free,
and ART spring from ev'ry slight test! :)
04/29/2008 02:22:58 AM · #10
Originally posted by 777STAN:
...and ART spring from ev'ry slight test! :)
From 'cross the net my ears did burn
as if a thing 'bout me someone
did seem to need to learn
so to my 'puter I did walk (not run)
I sat and read the post above
in which Stan had made false claim
Though 't might not be me he was speaking of
I thought I'd answer just the same
Though twas not true
since time of birth
but as older that I grew
through recklessness and added girth-
Let me just get to the point I'm trying to make
about that line, well here's the thing
This "Art" whose body creaks and aches
it shuffles, but does NOT "spring" ...from anything. :P
04/29/2008 08:14:15 AM · #11
|True grace in living SPRINGS from love, not ART,
and he lives best who loves best in his heart ó
so speak not to us of ART's aging bones
and sagging flesh. Instead, in dulcet tones,
regale us with all your hopes and dreams:
convince us that ART is not what he seems...
04/29/2008 10:07:58 AM · #12
|Of ART, I speak in symbols capped,
that all may know the Truth,
Respect have I for hands that map,
creations from our youth!
For ART is that which from within,
comes out the heart of Man,
Faux Pas' most inadvertent sin,
accuses words of Stan!
I Thank You for the readership,
of one whose merriment,
Is often blissful, without slip,
my heart refreshment lent!
Now, as I end this latest post,
I mention just one thing,
The Rules of Thread say I may roast,
the "itchy finger" thing,
For "Button Quotes" are not a part,
of this thread's narrowness,
But don't be 'shamed for my near start,
was caught before I "missed!"
04/29/2008 02:34:11 PM · #13
|Ah, the err of my post Stan did mention
in reference to the quote
'tis obvious now I paid no attention
and for this I should be smote
So from now on I'll not disregard
and behave like other fools
but at the risk of being barred
I've never been one to follow rules
04/29/2008 03:34:01 PM · #14
|In response to my good friend, Bear,
of hopes, I might regale
but dreams would only serve to scare
and the readers here would bail
04/29/2008 03:55:33 PM · #15
|I know a young ART Roflmao,
Who's really not shaped, like potatoes,
He's made it quite clear,
That he has no fear,
Of those who throw red, ripe tomatoes! :)
04/29/2008 04:06:43 PM · #16
|An ART-sy Haiku:
The camera captures
clearly what the eyes cannot...
Art supercedes life.
04/29/2008 09:51:48 PM · #17
|haiku gates open --
look out because now every
one is a poet
04/29/2008 11:56:20 PM · #18
|Haiku is high-key,
Jpeg, Tiff, and RAW 4-2,
F-Stop & my speed...
Photo blocks do show,
Ornamental papers rare,
Haiku blocks from East!
Is required as clear,
Meanings of haikus we write?
Is that writer's block? :}
04/30/2008 09:46:29 AM · #19
|Open the window a crack,
then close it again against
a knife-like draft: the day
looks warmer than it is...
04/30/2008 06:34:59 PM · #20
|I've no appreciation of Haiku
like Don and Bear and Stan
As annoying as the lizard from Geiko
Sorry, I'm just not a fan.
But feel free to continue to yammer
All those words that don't even rhyme
and I'll just continue to hammer
out more nonsensical gibberish of mine. :)
04/30/2008 08:47:04 PM · #21
|Poetry of Cats,
Haiku, syllables, no rhyme,
Sensible the same! :}
We have a male cat who's named, Tiger!
Amazing young man,...best I can figure!
His birth was unkind,
For he was born a feline,
But he's almost a dog for my pleasure!
05/01/2008 05:55:55 PM · #22
|May Day! May Day! Are you there?
We need some help today!
May first is the first of May,
With dancing pole we play!
Festive May doth follow rain,
throughout the April swim,
If April showers bring May flowers,
what do they bring in?
Mayflowers bring the pilgrims in,
I know you learned in school,
Mayflowers, also, move our things,
to new places so cool! :}
05/03/2008 11:17:37 AM · #23
|It is the week end! Yes! It is!
It's what we all live for,
But often folks enjoy this bliss,
while others mind the store!
The Monday through Friday common fare,
leaves Saturday, Sunday off,
Yet others know the end is theirs,
when Normal stride is boff!
So, "Best to you & yours!" I say,
enjoying weekend now!
To those believing come what may,
my top end's weak,...I bow! :}
05/03/2008 11:44:55 AM · #24
|And when it is too soon and long too shortly short,
It is much further than so far.
Is it a cloud one cannot carry.
Blue dust and not a sunshine likeness
Wears the skyline for a brow.
And Larry went without a lamp.
And Mary went without a lamb.
And when it is so in the calm and cool of heaven,
there is then a very long forever in.
And every little lamb is king.
And every little king is guest.
And every little pin is blessed.
And in the beginning thus the end commences.
What end there is beyond the hill , a fence and starry stalks.
The spinner spinning from his spool a glass.
The weaver weaving by a pool.
And what is left is weft to chance, and then,
among the poison Maries, mercy, ivy walls
the jaded powdered night ignites
such fingered filigree, it stars
the shore, the sea-shelled continent.
And when it is so blue and black
that every little thing means Jack,
there is then beyond the moon a hill.
What then is there, is then is so,
And every Jill is Mary, Jack is Jo,
And in the beginning it was so
And then it is too soon too short or low
to enter heaven.
And what is weft is left to Jim,
To line a cloud and wear it thin.
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