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PostPosted: Fri May 08, 2009 5:56 pm 
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Joined: Sun Sep 14, 2008 12:34 pm
Posts: 34
Location: England
Night Chime


The jingle of a
Wind chime gently sways the stars
In a night time sky

Full of wonder &
A mystery that always
Will defy any

Rationality.
I see Cassiopeia
Combing her long hair

Opposite Ursa
Major & I think 'What a
Strange thing to do there'.

Then the wind blows the
Swirling curtains of the clouds
& draws an end to

Cosmic theatre,
Soon to be open again
At a sky near you.

_________________
'They say best men are moulded out of faults, &, for the most, become much more the better for being a little bad': Measure for Measure (V,i)


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 Post subject: children
PostPosted: Fri May 22, 2009 2:42 am 
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Joined: Fri May 22, 2009 2:30 am
Posts: 1
Location: sheffield
I wrote this about me little girl...

Where did she go?

Where did my baby girl go?
I never knew how fast you’d grow
A tiny babe in my arms
My first instinct to keep from harm
Oh the surprises you had in store
how you broke from the norm!
All your firsts delighted me
And still do, as you can see...
But nothing could prepare me for
Seeing you standing there so tall
A young girl of 5 years old
So confident, strong and bold.
Your imagination knows no bounds
Your need for answers to be found
To what and how and why?
You even think you can fly!
You are soft and warm and loving too
Justice is so important to you.
When I look into your eyes I see
That tiny babe looking back at me
So I choke back the tears
And see laid ahead my hopes and fears.
I know deep down from looking at you
You will do what ever you want to
Nothing ever will hold in, restrain that fight,
That love and that need to win!
I see I really have nothing to fear
Except to see the babe I love so dear
Grow up to be a fine young woman
Who like her mum is rather stubborn!
I just want to play it slow
Enjoy every moment of the show.
Your childhood is so precious to me
I hope when you look back that’s what you’ll see
And when I look back at how you’ve grown
I’ll know just where my baby girl did go.


Heather


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PostPosted: Fri Dec 18, 2009 10:31 pm 
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Joined: Mon Mar 27, 2006 10:03 pm
Posts: 14
Location: George Town Tasmania Australia
BACK IN 1953
Pretensions To Knowing The Score

Alfred Hayes (1911-1985), a British writer for film and television, published what was perhaps his best novel In Love in 1953. It was a story set in Manhattan during the 1940s about a middle-aged man who tells a young stranger the story of a love affair that was full of lust, emotion, depression and a dysfunctional relationship. The book was reissued by Peter Owen publishers with a foreword by Frederic Raphael in 2007. I was 9 when the book was first published and 63 when it was reissued. My mother had just joined the Bahá'í Faith in ’53 and the Baha’is took their new religion to over 100 countries that year.

Some critics consider Hayes’ work a masterpiece but Hayes himself figures neither in the textbooks of post-war literature nor even in the indices of modern biographies. He wrote no curricular books and he failed, or did not care, to hang out with those whose company makes people famous by association. He slept with no notorious women (or none who said he did) and he did not win prizes or accrue honours. Born in England, in 1911, he was taken, at the age of three, to America, where he attended City College in New York. As a young man, he became a reporter with The Daily News and on the now defunct New York American. He seems to have remained in the U.S. until he died in 1985 except for a period during the mid-to-late 1940s, when he was in the U.S. Army Special Services in Europe.-Ron Price with thanks to Frederic Raphael at CliveJames.com, 18 December 2009.

You were quick, Alfred, to encapsulate
the essence of a story and you worked,
seemingly anonymously and indifferent
to fame and popularity, in film in the 40s.

In Love is a work by a man who had no
political or personal kites to fly. You are
and were a hazy figure whose obscurity is
due perhaps to lack of thrusting ambition.

Perhaps you were one of those who knows
the score but doesn’t expect to make a score.
You continued to be prolific, unrenowned, a
poet: with that lyric for the ballad “Joe Hill”
--about a Union organiser executed in Utah
in 1915--was a Joan Baez hit in the 1960s...

In Love is your slim claim to lasting fame, if
you have any at all, in a period of well-turned
fiction with its very solitary drinkers in midnight
bars who were cousins to your characters depicted
with the similarly distanced sympathy to In Love.

Art, Ezra Pound said, is “news that stays news.”
In Love is a period piece: it belongs to a time
when one’s fortieth was a birthday one dreaded.
Art doesn’t require surprise. You make sexuality
some kind of frustration. Your lovers shadows
clutching shadows. The pointillist refinement
of your prose and the perspicuity of your self-
effacement were abruptly out of fashion. Your
book can be dated by its economy of eroticism.
The malaise of your characters never to be cured
by political activism, feminist rebellion, blokeish
booziness. Your masterpiece reads like a writer’s
tribute to the Blues; it’s a very tersely syncopated
lament calls for a sound track improvised by those
bepop founders-Thelonius Monk or Dizzy Gillespie.(1)

(1) -Ron Price with thanks to Frederic Raphael at CliveJames.com, 18 December 2009. Dizzy Gillespie became a Bahá'í, the year I made arrangements to move from Canada to Australia, 1970. He was one of the most famous adherents of the Bahá'í Faith which helped him make sense of his position in a succession of trumpeters as well as turning his life from knife-carrying roughneck to global citizen, and from alcohol to soul force. Like Hayes, I see myself as one of those with pretensions to know
the score but I don’t expect to make a score. I, like Hayes, continue to be a prolific, unrenowned, poet.

Ron Price
18 December 2009

_________________
married for 42 years; teacher for 35 years; Canadian living in Australia for 38 years; Baha'i for 50 years.


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