I would never, he’s way too much of a class act. What a gentleman.
Dibs
Nothing says Air BNB like that IKEA wall art right there.
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A round at Santa Anita and then an afternoon at the track would be fun #content.
The boys going to DeBell after all the shade the C-Suite has been throwing at them over the length of courses they play would … definitely be one kind of response. (I would love it. That’s a fantastic Strapped course.)
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I think they always match
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sad face
I gotta focus.
That could be taken at least two ways.
@MerchCzar does look quite content.
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They match scripting for the money round each trip. Makes sense considering they’re essentially a “team” for the day
Unseasonably warm temps in Bmore right now, was a great time meeting @Kyle.W and an even better morning to tee it up at Rocky Point. Played as a twosome, first group out and walked it in about 3hrs. Got there a bit early, wish I had a drone.
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Great playing with you! @SeymourByrdees
Where did I say he wasn’t an American literary institution? How dense can someone be?
I never denied that he is clearly an icon, in a field that no one cares about…especially kids.
You could be an icon in the world of knitting, but that doesn’t mean that more than a tiny pop of people care.
Again, this is way more fun now that I read your posts in Gilbert Gottfried’s voice.
Again, where did I say he wasn’t? Saying he’s a relic doesn’t imply that he’s not. Your comprehension skills are stunningly inept. All of my responses were not rebuttals to Poe’s legendary status, but to the idea that any kid would give a damn.
Yes, 99.9% of kids are forced to read his old poems in class but they are not actual fans of him. Same with 99% of adults. Just because he’s an icon doesn’t mean anyone cares anymore. Give me a break, no one cares about old poetry.
I find old poetry speaks to the soul—-
“My temper’s soft by green and tee
Though winter winds may blow;
There’s isn’t much that bothers me
No matter where I go.
But where I burn is when some dub
Whose game is none too strong,
Horns in each time I fluff or flub
To tell me what was wrong”
— Grantland Rice
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This is now a poetry thread
Eric trolls us all
The refuge cant understand
ED must be Trump
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Poetry Thread? Yes, let’s go.
Starting with the man himself, Poe, from Ulalume:
“Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul—
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
There were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll—
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole—
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.”
A choice excerpt from Ginsberg’s much-longer Television Was a Baby Crawling Toward That Deathchamber that I read about a million times in the span of one summer in high school.
“Clocks are abuilding for a thousand years, ticking behind metalloidesque electronico-clankered industries smokeless in silent mind city—
Dawn of the Ages! Man thy Alarm rings thru sweet myriad mornings in every desperate-carred street! Saints wait in each metropolis
fo Message to Assassinate the old idea, that 20,000 yr old eye-god Man thought was Being Secret mystery,
unbearable Judge above, God alien handless tongueless to poor man”
My favorite of the many incredible war poems from the Great War, Ivor Gurney’s To His Love
"He’s gone, and all our plans
Are usless indeed.
We’ll walk no more on Cotswold
Where the sheep feed
Quietly and take no heed.
His body that was so quick
Is not as you
Knew it, on Severn river
Under the blue
Driving our small boat through.
You would not know him now . . .
But still he died
Nobly, so cover him over
With violets of pride
Purple from Severn side.
Cover him, cover him soon!
And with thick-set
Masses of memoried flowers—
Hide that red wet
Thing I must somehow forget."
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And a few modern poets, just because.
The first, lines from Vanessa Jimenez Gabb’s animalia
"actual combat leads to wounds
death possibly
the hippos know this
bone-dry
relentlessly hot
not concerned with the heat
and then, rain
the river divides again and again
what life has the river given
we have lived under the spell of the river
it has defined cultures
life itself"
A young poet my ex introduced me to wrote a book of poems ostensibly about animals. Nadia Wolnisty’s On a Painting by Goya
“We thought the painting was Satan Devouring his Son.
Dad said that wasn’t in the bible,
which explained why we didn’t know it.
He said, Satan didn’t have any children.
We said, Of course not, not anymore,
he ate them.”
And finally, my last contribution to poetry thread, the opening salvo of Danez Smith’s Politics of Elegy
“another brown man is dead
& now he’s my ancestor.
I was older than him before
but now he’s endless. what
do your people do
with their ghosts? if I write
the name of this new not here
is that the line? what if I write it
with quill & wound? I’ve trapped
so many boys in poems.”
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Welcome back, Eric.
I bet you’re fun at parties.
(When you’re invited.)
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He never was.
Which explains a lot.
Normal socially healthy and mentally mature adults don’t say things like this:
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Difference is, your comments weren’t jokes.
You’re not the victim here, gui.
Edit: I’m done here. I’m not getting sucked into this.