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  Sep 2024 Nick Moore
Jill
Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Discernible ‘yes’ from word-keeps on high
Merriam says it’s clear thinking between
--confusion (sounds bad), or insanity (worse)
Those on the edges can feel what I mean
Our grand word-keeps really must justify
       The mean in this meaning,
       out-bounded by boundary,
       lined-out by this outline,
       now liminal quandary

Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Webster, my friend, have you deep-thought this through?
Sanction is clear from this definite frame
-- English agrees, but is that important?
English is not the sole tongue in the game
Here is a series of queries for you      
       Can you margin it all out?
       The hurt and the fallout?
       For people who crawl out
       adrift from your callout?
      
Not-lucid has rescued me more times than countable
And really not-lucid has caught me mid-fall
Through memory patches of pain insurmountable
Muddling dull was the best break of all
The cogent, coherent, and clean-comprehensible
Can open tight *****-capped emotional stores
Unprocessed experience, only defensible
By wool-wrapping windows, and baffling doors  

Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Politely diverge from Merriam’s word
Webster’s position humanely disclaim
       --Gratitude-pour over fuzzy and haze
Cloud-foggy, mind-misty, heavy, mush-brain
Rational praised, but when needed, deferred
       Hail shields of deep feeling
       all lucid-real reeling
       rewinding revealing
       to heel allows healing

‘Lucid? Not always’ the kindly refrain
Outsiders rest on the inside again
And never confuse, confused and insane
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (lucid) date 27th September 2024. “Showing or having the ability to think clearly, especially in intervals between periods of confusion or insanity.”
I'm just allowed to read 5 poems. I can't scroll down for  more.
I don't know what mistake I've made for Eliot to close the door.
I know I'm not the only one with no access to the index
Which I consulted constantly from forgetfulness and reflex.
Is there some way to make amends and put things back to right
Or are we all to drop our pens and fade into the night.

Will Eliot do something new and leave us on our own
Or are his plans a secret - totally to us unknown
Will Hello Poetry ever come back and be the way it's been
If we should lose our access it would be the gravest sin
I've offered Elliot a check instead of monthly nicks
But I've not had a word from him - up to his usual tricks.

I'll keep submitting what I write and see if it's displayed
And if it  never does appear, sadly I will be dismayed
If I am not the only one facing this conundrum
Let me have a word or two and tell me who it's from.
Then I won't feel I've crossed a line and there's no hope for me
And all together we will wait to see what we can see.
I'm crippled - can read only 5 poems, can't use index past A, and comments are coming to my e-mail instead of here so they can be answered easily.
Nick Moore Sep 2024
Gull's,
The only sound.
Bobbing around,
I'm
Wave
Waiting

The right one
Arrives,
A
Liquid
Mountain
Slide

Curling around,
I'm
Inside,
An
Exhilarating
Ride

Momentum spent,
The
Moment
Came and
Went

All this fun,
Turn
Around,
Face the
Sun

Paddle
Through the
Breakers,
Towards the
Bobbing
Gull's


Song - Surfs up,  The beach boys
  Sep 2024 Nick Moore
Ajit Saigal
-----------------------------------------------------------------­----------------------

Beneath Autumn's amber canopy, crimson leaves descend,
Breeze hums soft, winds rustle, golden branches fend.
Fields wear coats of copper, the skies a mellow blue,
Earth rests ever peaceful, wrapped in dreamy prismatic view.

But wait!

Whispers in the woodlands augur, of winter drawing near,
Streams grow silent and slower, the days are crisp and clear.
Autumn weaves her fading robe, down the vale and up the hill,
Trees now bare and blown alone, brace for the northern crispy chill.

She reigns bold with crystal breath, She adorns the silver mistal frost,
Locked in the slumber of icy warmth, world's mesmerized n bitten frost.
Yet there's beauty in Winter's bite, X'mas stars so sharp and bright,
The glaring moon does outshine, longest of all those lustrous nights.

Whispers stir the uncanny earth, Snow thaws timid and un-certain,
Tender shaven heads of buds uncurl, tranquil signs of birth unwhirl.
The air gets sweet with secret songs, Streams anew in lyrical reprise,
This stoic winter though lingering still, paves the way for spring's encore.

And aloha!

Spring blossoms bright and gay,
Skies sing choirs of purple nights, and vibrant radiant days.
Draped in spectrum hues, the air is filled with laughter cues,
Joy spills out from sprightly souls, life renews her tillowed-faery soles.

And there!

Summer sun ascends in blaze n might, Skies stretch far in endless blue,
Fields decked-up in emerald green, flowers enticing n kissed by dew.
Warmth that hums in every breeze, rollicks lush in flare and plume,
Golden rays embrace earth enchanted, Joy looms large in glints n glows.
Stanza 4: Soft whispers stir the uncanny earth, snow thaws timid n uncertain,
[Uncertain because, it's going to unmask the hidden dreams behind nature's winter curtain]

This poem fits primarily into the "quatrain type" idyll based nature poetry genre. Here are some characteristics that align it with this genre:

Themes of Nature: The poem tries to beautifully describe the changing seasons—autumn, winter, spring, and summer—highlighting their unique qualities and the beauty of the natural world.

Imagery: Vivid imagery is used throughout, painting a rich picture of landscapes, colors, and sensory experiences (e.g., "autumn's amber canopy," "golden rays," "crimson leaves").

Personification: Nature is personified, as seen in phrases like "She reigns bold with crystal breath," which adds depth and emotion to the portrayal of the seasons.

Rhythm and Flow: The poem has a musical quality, with a rhythmic flow that complements the theme of nature's symphony, making it feel both lyrical and harmonious.

Celebration of Change: The poem emphasizes the cyclical nature of life and the beauty in transitions between the seasons, a common theme in nature poetry.

Overall, it may also be classified under lyric poetry due to its personal reflection and emotional resonance regarding nature.
What ?
What are you gonna' do ?
Write a poem ?
Ha ! That's really rich !
The Baptist would send over a casserole and dish . But it's too far away and it would spoil before it could be delivered . How about a card of condolences or flowers . Same ole same so's , not feasible or adequate . Who's loss is it really ? Mine of course !
  So I'll sit in my rocking chair on the porch and stare down the memories or lay on my bed of remorse and share the emptiness and wonder about how fast our lives have passed . And of course I'll cut out another piece of my heart and hand it you to take with you on your long journey home wherever it may be .
I wanted to go to Butlins
but ended up here at
Pontins
and not even the
contipontinental
one,
no,
it was
the one at
Camber Sands,

the camber was obvious to me
the beach sloped down to the sea
the sands were sandy which was handy
for building castles,

that is it
glad I got that off my chest.
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