The New Adventures of Mr Stephen Fry » Topic: i am a poet of the dirt.

The New Adventures of Mr Stephen Fry » Topic: i am a poet of the dirt. http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt Just another bbPress community en-US Tue, 18 Jun 2013 20:49:33 +0000 http://bbpress.org/?v=1.0.2 <![CDATA[Search]]> q http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/search.php monochromeprincess on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68843 Sat, 30 Aug 2008 22:29:48 +0000 monochromeprincess 68843@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ ooh, this is very good, I love your spacing - a thing often neglected in poetry, but it really helps to feel the words. And very well chosen, evocative words placed excellently together :). You posting up anymore...? Or have a deviantART? Celina O. on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68705 Wed, 27 Aug 2008 19:59:38 +0000 Celina O. 68705@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ i appreciate that very much. i had debated posting this up, but i have realised that i need to start getting serious about feedback and such, and learning to apply what is given as input. thank you, Jester. The Jester on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68703 Wed, 27 Aug 2008 19:50:02 +0000 The Jester 68703@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ It's really good, that must be said. I missed a certain rytmh but I guess that's just me. The final four verses stuck out as especially good, and there is no specific point I don't like. It's balancing the fine line of being too long and being just right, and that's fine by me. Just remember that if you want to go further then make sure you fix the audience's attention throughout the poem, not that this one didn't. Celina O. on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68691 Wed, 27 Aug 2008 18:12:44 +0000 Celina O. 68691@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ thank you very much. am so humbled. Sidthespid on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68676 Wed, 27 Aug 2008 14:13:29 +0000 Sidthespid 68676@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ Ooh, you sent shivers up my spine. I'm also a lover of brown and the feel of hot, dry dirt between my toes and fingers. As for storms, well! I salute a kindred spirit. Über hot <img src="http://www.stephenfry.com/bb-content/plugins//bb-smilies/default/icon_biggrin.gif" title=":D" class="bb_smilies" /> Celina O. on "i am a poet of the dirt." http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/topic/i-am-a-poet-of-the-dirt#post-68661 Wed, 27 Aug 2008 10:22:47 +0000 Celina O. 68661@http://www.stephenfry.com/forum/ before i get on with it... this is my first post on this forum. i am living, and was born, in west texas, an extremely strange part of the states. very much influenced by mexico, and the desert. there's the background, here's the poetry. untitled 16 - (i am a poet of the dirt) 17.07.08 i am a poet of the dirt. born in the dirt, i breathe in the dirt, and every night i wash the dirt off my face, so that it will be ready to be sprinkled with the dirt of tomorrow. i write not of the joys of the ocean, of bounty, of shores. and green pastures. what i know is the heat. what i know are dry days - dry days in the dirt. desert sun and brown skin. and i know that colour. brown, not blue. brown, not green. brown is the colour of my soul, for i was born of this place and of all of its virtue, and of the dirt. my soul is striped with the pinks and the oranges of the sunsets and the dawns. i know that i shall never bare witness to such as beautiful as these outside my window each night and each morning. and today there was lightning. and nothing sends a chill through your spine like the rolling thunder in the desert. the echo of it in the mountains and the rumbles of it in the belly of this earth. in the dirt the drops collect, slowly. and rarely. and i'm thirsty always, thirsty for life, and vitality, for green and blue. for cold, and for rain. oh glorious thunder of this morning that has inspired me to write. i've missed you. i've not heard you in ages as loud as i hear you now. you force my windows to quake and my bones to rattle. the ceiling fan shakes with your roar. and i close my eyes and remember nights years ago, gathering at the window with my father and my brother, counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. one one thousand, two one thousand... that same childish joy scatters through me now. and i am still counting. don't leave me. rumble and rage and crash and crackle and flash until i am sound asleep. unconscious and dreaming, as you continue your lullaby. this rare and unmistakable delicacy of the desert. stay with me until i fall asleep. and though the rain hasn't begun yet, maybe throw in the gentle percussive taps as the sun peeks over the mountain outside my window. the smell of wet dirt and dry rain. the taste of both. the drops of both, scattered against my window. this feeling, these senses, this is how i know. my roots are not as physical as those of the trees, or of the flowers and plants. my roots are in the hard ground, the dirt that blows in the desert wind with so much force and such little meaning. they are not roots that can be cut. i am a poet of the dirt. -celina o. if you dig this, more of my writing is found <a href="http://www.myspace.com/laspalabrasdemivida">here</a>.