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Thread: The Esoteric Diaries

  1. #51
    stickinthemud is offline Junior Twelever +1 TwelevePlus
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    Default Thank you for the insight

    Quote Originally Posted by spiderman
    Your experiment didn't fail, Ray.

    12pm's "Abandon Hope" sonnet, due to the fear and astonishment of others: too unfortunate to live, too unfortunate to die. †It's a sneak peek at the real you.

    Poetry more or less has its roots in Olde English, so I took this chosen language to indicate that the subject matter is the root of all your introversion. †Abandoned hope has many faces, eh?

    Cheers,
    Carol

    Abandoned hope - hiding? I think you are on to something here, especially in the light of "Abandon Hope" - I remember a movie I saw long ago, about men entering a prison or something (maybe English) in which inscribed on the wall or something is the phrase "abandon all hope, ye who enter here". And 12pm's sonnet was indeed crafted as he had indicated.

    It was a rare subconscious thought that drove that experiment - it didn't quite make sense, but tugged at something that had meaning. A sort of Sense and Sensibility thing. The play of the sounds was inticing - I wondered about that a bit also. I thought that was why I liked it, but consisdering your thought - the reason for liking it is even deeper than I had supposed - maybe it really was not simply a peek but a coming out.

    Ray
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  2. #52
    hollidaze39's Avatar
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    Default

    im just not one to read too much into things babe...i dont think you failed..im sure other peeps here will get it...carol usually being the first

    (((((((((((ray)))))))))))
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  3. #53
    spiderman's Avatar
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    Default

    Yeah, I'm always the first one to read too much into people's posts!



    (I guess we search for different types of treasure!)

  4. #54
    stickinthemud is offline Junior Twelever +1 TwelevePlus
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    Default Yep

    lol,

    what a missed opportunity - i could've made it a puzzle

    sitm
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  5. #55
    spiderman's Avatar
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    You did, Ray; you did!

  6. #56
    stickinthemud is offline Junior Twelever +1 TwelevePlus
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    Default Hummmm....

    Quote Originally Posted by spiderman
    You did, Ray; you did!
    Carol,

    Thanks, except I pretty much gave the solution away in (1) the title (read it, the poem aloud), (2) the reponse to holli, and (3) the fact that all the words are found in the "a" section of the dictionary. only things no one has figured out are (1) which words (that too is a poem, by the way) were picked and (2) how to space the words on the lines so it makes sense (this was the reference to sense and sensibility).


    Ray
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  7. #57
    liviasmimi's Avatar
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    Default

    the swing song:

    oh how i love to go up in the air...
    up in the sky so blue.....
    oh i believe its the pleasantist thing......
    ever a child can do!


    voice of experience here...FLASHBACK!



  8. #58
    stickinthemud is offline Junior Twelever +1 TwelevePlus
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    Default The Swing Song

    mimi,

    great i really like that.

    Ray
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  9. #59
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    Default robert louis

    i bet stevenson does as well

    nice image recollection, mimi..
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  10. #60
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    Dead hummingbird

    As morning finds that shape, a light-dressed jewel,
    Fresh-pressed and thrum-less, unseen hands seem cruel
    To fling away such work. Why craft, at all,
    Airís miracle to crush and then let fall?

    Or potter spirals out from waterís wheel,
    But sow their beach-strewn shards beneath the heel?
    Has beauty banked such surplus itís all burned
    Like leaves in bins? Whose language must be learned?

    Unless timeís restless brush forms Formís true heart,
    And arc from sky to pavementís pound one part
    Of larger arts. Thereís speech, I know, in waves,
    But still I hear just shells, see humming graves.

    Godís riddled wing still clings to glowing now
    But feathered secrets dim to earthís mute plow.

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