Dear Abby

[The_Professor]

 Dear Abby:
 
 
  My husband is a liar and a cheat. He has cheated on me from the
 beginning, and, when I confront him, he denies everything. What's
 worse, everyone knows that he cheats on me. It is so humiliating.
 Also, since he lost his job six years ago, he hasn't even looked for a
 new one. All he does all day is smoke cigars, cruise around and shoot
 the breeze with his buddies while I have to work to pay the bills.
 Since our daughter went away to college he doesn't even pretend to
 like me and hints that I may be a lesbian. What should I do?
 
 Signed: Clueless
 
 
 
  Dear Clueless:
 
 Grow up and dump him. Good grief, woman. You don't need him anymore!
 You're a U. S. Senator from New York running for President of the
 United States. ACT LIKE ONE!!!
 
 Signed: Abby
 
<source unknown>

[Xavier_Onassis]

Hee hee, yuck yuck.

Now write one for Huckabee, Romney,  and Giulani.

[The_Professor]

Ok, I'll see if I can find 'em! 

[Xavier_Onassis]

If you could create one on your own, that might prove to be both droll and a valuable learning experience in expository and satirical writing for you.

[The_Professor]

Naw, Plane is the poet. Perhaps he could, but I simply don't "have" it. Why don't YOU take stab?

[Plane]

Dear Political Abby,

     After several bad marrages I am finally In a marrage that I think will last, unfortunately I am attempting to get hired for a better job and many members of the  hiring committee look askance at my life history. How can I persuede these members to ignore my failed marrages and consentrate on my qualifications for the job?

                                    Signed ,
                                   Big Apple Daddy

 Dear B.A.D.
      Are you sure that you want to work for such a demanding and unreasonable committee? Just how good is this Job anyway ? Never the less ,If you are determined to try, remember that the ones that are hard headed might not number enough to block your application.You should consentrate on the members of the committee who are reasonable and might overlook unimportant problems such as infidelity, don't even worry about the "unreasonable " ones, you lost them when they saw you in a dress.


   Signed Political Abby






BTW thank you Professor for your confidence , but should someone who writes a poem only occasionally be so complemented?

[The_Professor]

Dear Political Abby,

     After several bad marrages I am finally In a marrage that I think will last, unfortunately I am attempting to get hired for a better job and many members of the  hiring committee look askance at my life history. How can I persuede these members to ignore my failed marrages and consentrate on my qualifications for the job?

                                    Signed ,
                                   Big Apple Daddy

 Dear B.A.D.
      Are you sure that you want to work for such a demanding and unreasonable committee? Just how good is this Job anyway ? Never the less ,If you are determined to try, remember that the ones that are hard headed might not number enough to block your application.You should consentrate on the members of the committee who are reasonable and might overlook unimportant problems such as infidelity, don't even worry about the "unreasonable " ones, you lost them when they saw you in a dress.


   Signed Political Abby






BTW thank you Professor for your confidence , but should someone who writes a poem only occasionally be so complemented?

Perhaps quality can be considered more important than quantity?

[The_Professor]

Plane, how about this?


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

[Plane]

Plane, how about this?


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Frost is great , Burns is also great.

Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The man's the gowd(gold) for a' that
What though on hamely(homely) fare we dine
Wear hoddin grey(course wollen cloth), an' a' that
Gie(give) fools their silks, and knaves their wine
A man's a man, for a' that.....


"While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things, The fate of empires and the fall of kings; While quacks of State must each produce his plan, And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention, The Rights of Woman merit some attention."
- Robert Burns

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gjr5boTgis4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOBcFt5tevY&NR=1

[fatman]

Does anything beat the dark, Black Irish imagery of Yeats?


  William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
               THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


I especially love the last two lines.

[The_Professor]

Does anything beat the dark, Black Irish imagery of Yeats?


  William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
               THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


I especially love the last two lines.

Yep, real classics. They bring forth the wimzy...

[Xavier_Onassis]

he darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

===========================================================
I agree that this is a great image, but exactly what is the rough beast in question: the Apocalypse personified? Jesus?

The Apocalypse is supposedly the will of God and therefore unquestionable divine, not just good. Is Jesus a 'rough beast'?

Humans have always wished for some huge all-conquering THING that would come and impose Perfection and Justice on the unfair and iniquitous universe. There is somethin apocalyptic in many religions, I think starting with Zoroastrianism and Manicheaism.

I see this as similar to such myths of perfection as the Unicorn, Prince Charming, and the Man on a White Stallion. NIce to imagine, but bloody unlikely and totally not in keeping with any logical analysis of the universe.
 

[Plane]

he darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

===========================================================
I agree that this is a great image, but exactly what is the rough beast in question: the Apocalypse personified? Jesus?

The Apocalypse is supposedly the will of God and therefore unquestionable divine, not just good. Is Jesus a 'rough beast'?

Humans have always wished for some huge all-conquering THING that would come and impose Perfection and Justice on the unfair and iniquitous universe. There is somethin apocalyptic in many religions, I think starting with Zoroastrianism and Manicheaism.

I see this as similar to such myths of perfection as the Unicorn, Prince Charming, and the Man on a White Stallion. NIce to imagine, but bloody unlikely and totally not in keeping with any logical analysis of the universe.
 

Poetry in its nature is not analitical , it brings forth emotion and image explores the shadows of mind and heart where the poorly understood things have their reign.
Analisis of poetry seaparates the thing from its nature.
What did this poem mean to you?
I had diffrent thoughts, the power of this poem exites the hearer deeply and all the unsaid things of the poem are filled in by the images the mind produces in the listening.

To me the world at war andthe uncertainty of the future ,prophacys of the antichrist, came to mind and the great beast that would imitate Christ .

[Xavier_Onassis]

Ahhh , the Antichrist. The fake Christ that for some cunning reason God is going to allow to pop down to co0nfuse everyone who fails to comprehend the vast gibberish of the Apocalypse.

How bloody likely is this to happen? Really.

[Plane]

Ahhh , the Antichrist. The fake Christ that for some cunning reason God is going to allow to pop down to co0nfuse everyone who fails to comprehend the vast gibberish of the Apocalypse.

How bloody likely is this to happen? Really.

It is prophesied , what elese can I tell you?

To a beleiver like myself, it is certain and unstoppable.

But prophecy is intentionally a challenge to understand , so that the unerstanding is a gift given to those who pray for it and need it , I must not need to understand all of them because there are several I can't explain.