Fauxku Choo Choo (the play's the thing)
    sand spread on ice -
    zen and the art of
    shadow-boxing
   

    ice? shadow?
    vaporize
    in the heat of our white-hot love
   
this fireworks show is a secret space war                
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ice? shadow?
vaporize
in the heat of our white-hot love


white-hot ice ~
shadowed love
vaporized
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    white-hot ice ~
    shadowed love
    vaporized


    love
    shadowed
    stalking my heart

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love
shadowed
stalking my heart


shadows
at the heart of love ~
dead stalks
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    shadows
    at the heart of love ~
    death stalks
   

    shadows
    falling
    for love
   
this fireworks show is a secret space war                
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shadows
falling
for love

standing in the shadows of love
getting ready for the heartaches to come ... Smile Is that cheating?
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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(05-27-2017, 01:52 PM)just mercedes Wrote:  shadows
   falling
   for love

standing in the shadows of love
getting ready for the heartaches to come ...      Smile Is that cheating?

    1 to 4 line poem, used "shadows" and "love", so no.
    Speaking literally? No.  As poet John Lyly wrote: "All is fair in love, in war"
    Ripping off the Four Tops? Well, sort of... but if it's meant as an homage, there's nothing in the guidelines that prohibits it.
    Though maybe I should add something to the guidelines that says it needs to be in quotes and attributed.




    "standing in the shadows of love
    getting ready for the heartaches to come"
  *
   

    "from a heartache so blue
    from a shadow to the sun
    from a lifetime on the run"
  **
   



    *Lyrics from the song "Standing in the Shadows of Love" by the Four Tops
    **Lyrics from the song "A Heartache, A Shadow, A Lifetime" by Dave Mason (Which really sucks.)
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Thumbsup Idea Wink  I'll remember for next time.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    "from a heartache so blue
    from a shadow to the sun
    from a lifetime on the run"
  **
   



    **Lyrics from the song "A Heartache, A Shadow, A Lifetime" by Dave Mason (Which really sucks.)


I curl up in the shade
of your shadow
guarded from the heat
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I curl up in the shade
of your shadow
guarded from the heat

the shadow of your smile*
has curled up in the heat.
the curtains fade.

* Song written and recorded by Tony Bennett
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    the shadow of your smile*
    has curled up in the heat.
    the curtains fade.
   
    * Song written and recorded by Tony Bennett
   


    "on the darkest night,
    even the shadows fade" *


    *said by the character Lemmy Caution in Jean-Luc Godard's Alphaville
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"on the darkest night,
even the shadows fade" *


*said by the character Lemmy Caution in Jean-Luc Godard's Alphaville

*Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!


* Quatrain 2, sonnet 43, William Shakespeare
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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*Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!


* Quatrain 2, sonnet 43, William Shakespeare
(Ray sez: I read this 20 times and had to make a Venn diagram...)



        Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
        That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
        And then is heard no more: it is a tale
        Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
  *



*The whole famous thing:


From Macbeth:

SEYTON: The queen, my lord, is dead.

MACBETH: She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

For extra credit: Figure out how many damn novels derive
their names from various parts of these few lines.

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For extra credit: Figure out how many damn novels derive
their names from various parts of these few lines.


It's deriving me mad - I can't figure out
the novice with various parts.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    It's deriving me mad - I can't figure out
    the novice with various parts.
   

    We novices, our various parts declined,
    Derived from gods, their sources deeply veiled;
    Our heads in time stop searching for a mind,
    Is wisdom just the knowledge that we've failed?

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We novices, our various parts declined,
Derived from gods, their sources deeply veiled;
Our heads in time stop searching for a mind,
Is wisdom just the knowledge that we've failed?


We expertly recline our variocose parts,
deprived of tone, their junction deeply veiled;
our minds in time stop blaming dogs for farts,
we crumble, slowly, tumble, gently fail.
Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

~ Rumi
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    We expertly recline our variocose parts,
    deprived of tone, their junction deeply veiled;
    our minds in time stop blaming dogs for farts,
    we crumble, slowly, tumble, gently fail.
   

    Ah love, how did we come to fall apart,
    Where once we firmly held each other's hands?
    With time we've lost our skill at lover's art;
    Let's learn again, seek out where Cupid stands.
   
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Ah love, how did we come to fall apart,
Where once we firmly held each other's hands?
With time we've lost our skill at lover's art;
Let's learn again, seek out where Cupid stands.

The ages stole our skill at lover's art:
With Christian virtue, burned what holds the heart.
But love of knowledge wipes the ash away
Where Cupid drills a daughter of Pompeii.
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