Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron

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viki holmes - Wales

smoking double happiness at the grand stage dinner & dance

 viki holmes - Wales

 

‘dancing with a touch of class’ every monday night, the grand stage restaurant, third floor, western market, central, hong kong

 

 

she sings candle in the wind

and all that jazz

i have a table to the side and to the right

the rest are dressed for dinner, colonial-style,

even a chandelier shouldn’t have

décolletage this long, it’s all

coming up tuberoses as i smoke

double happiness, gold and red box

in the swagged balcony, the lights,

the escalator,an archway

of roses and the miss havisham wedding cake

in the corner. this is elegance, this is

‘dancing with a touch of class’,

the business of love as the stars spell out

their names and the slow glide and quickstep

past, a dance parade but this

small-town girl needs to fly

to reach her dreams in the sky

di-dee-di-dee-ahh!

watching the rosebuds

vanish in the tealit glow

scattering their steps as they pass

watching their reflections – i want

this waltz with you, gold heels

catching for a moment in

the lace of her hem, you’d think

it deliberate how she

arches her knee

to retrieve it

the glitterball casts

stars on the panelled floor,

backstepped and twirling

beehived high kicks

as the girl on the balcony

serenades us all

and their perfect perfect faces

 

 

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