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Mark Toney  Nov 2019
Stipe End
Mark Toney Nov 2019
it's the end of the world as we know it - time I had some time alone
1/25/2019 - Poetry form: Monoku - While this is truly a Monoku, this is the second instance of me using a lyric line from a well known song for my Monoku.  So I am designating this particular form of Monoku as a Lyricku - a type of Monoku that is made up of a single horizontal line consisting of seventeen syllables or less, in addition to being a lyric line from a well known song. Lyric credit: Songwriters: John Michael Stipe / Michael E. Mills / Peter Lawrence Buck / William Thomas Berry | It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) © Universal Music Publishing Group - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Mark Toney  Mar 2020
stipe end
Mark Toney Mar 2020
it's the end of the world as we know it - time I had some time alone



© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
11/9/2019 - Poetry form: Monoku - While this is truly a Monoku/Lyricku - This is the second instance of me using a lyric line from a well known song for my Monoku.  So I am designating this particular form of Monoku as a Lyricku - a type of Monoku that is made up of a single horizontal line consisting of seventeen syllables or less, in addition to being a lyric line from a well known song. - Lyric credit: Songwriters: John Michael Stipe - Michael E. Mills - Peter Lawrence Buck - William Thomas Berry - It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) © Universal Music Publishing Group - © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
lucy winters  Jul 2015
Bad day
lucy winters Jul 2015
It's one of those days where I need to remember to be kind to myself
When my breath is hardly enough to give life to an elf
One of those days where I struggle to get out of bed
I cant get anything to sit right in my head
Simply for eating something, I pat myself on the back
I have to keep reminding myself not all my thoughts are fact
John Michael stipe says not to take pictures of the bad days
To hide them away and leave it where it lays
But I take the pictures, and keep them on a shelf
To remind myself how to pick me up again when I fell
I send the bad me good thoughts on postcards
To tell myself that some days are just hard
The bad me is cold, careless and not at all nice
She likes to indulge in every frowned upon vice
Yet I accept the bad me just as I do the good
Tomorrow might be a better day and the good me will win in all likelyhood
~
November 2024
HP Poet: Jill
Age: 47
Country: Australia


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Jill. Please tell us about your background?

Jill: "Mum and dad immigrated from Northern Ireland to Australia before having my brother and me. I’m very grateful to be living in South Australia on Kaurna Land. My parents were teachers, and they seeded and encouraged my love for education. At university I studied psychology, philosophy, and French. Then I went on to a PhD in psychology, and later, a master’s degree in statistics. In my day job, I’m a psychology professor, which includes lots of scientific writing. Outside work, I love playing music and singing with my partner and our friends and spending time with my precious son and our fluffy dog."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Jill: "I’ve been writing poetry on and off for years. The times in my life where I have been most active coincided with having friends who were interested in reading and writing together. In high school, my dear friend and I would watch British comedy shows and write silly, surreal, or nonsense poetry. Our aim was to make each other laugh as much as possible. More currently, I’ve been writing songs with friends, including lyrics, which often start as poems. I joined HP only recently, in August 2024. This community is so generous and supportive, with such a variety of style, depth, and imagination for inspiration and motivation."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Jill: "In many of my poems, I’m trying to make sense of big feelings. I often write about my experiences caring for my parents, who both had close and complex relationships with alcohol. That is a never-ending well for poetry, ranging from trying to process some of the intense events, to exploring what it has meant for my self-concept and mental health. Having said that, sometimes I’m just trying to write something that sounds pretty or might cause someone to smile. I love challenges like BLT's Webster’s Word of the Day – seeing what comes from a single word across different poets."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Jill: "In my more personal poems I am documenting, reconsidering, and re-investigating my memories, and organising them in nice, even lines, which feels cathartic. In poems, I find that the small or large amount of distance that you can create through imagery, rhyme, or humor makes it possible to explore difficult or even traumatic experiences, thoughts, and feelings. Writing poetry is a transformative exercise, but there is something greater still about sharing poetry with others."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Jill: "One of my favorite poets is WB Yeats, I particularly love 'The Stolen Child'. Other all-time favorites include Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, AA Milne, Lewis Caroll, Edward Lear, Spike Milligan, Rik Mayall, and Crawford Howard. I also love lyricists like Joni Mitchell, Michael Stipe, Stephen Schwartz, Tim Minchin, Wayne Coyne, Stephen Malkmus, and Rufus Wainright. I have so many favorites on HP – too many to list!"


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Jill: "I love music. Since childhood, I’ve played violin in classical orchestras and musical theatre pits. I adore Irish folk music. For me, at the moment, music mostly happens with friends, with my electric violin, in pub bands of different kinds. Most of the poems I’ve written previously have only been publicly shared, adapted as song lyrics, with some of these bands. I also love all things science-fiction."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much Jill, we truly appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! We are thrilled to include you in this ongoing series!”

Jill: "Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to be a part of this, Carlo! It is such a privilege."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Jill a little bit better. I most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #22 in December!

~
Errai nell'oblio della valle
tra ciuffi di stipe fiorite,
tra quercie rigonfie di galle;

errai nella macchia più sola,
per dove tra foglie marcite
spuntava l'azzurra viola;

errai per i botri solinghi:
la cincia vedeva dai pini:
sbuffava i suoi piccoli ringhi
argentini.

Io siedo invisibile e solo
tra monti e foreste: la sera
non freme d'un grido, d'un volo.

Io siedo invisibile e fosco;
ma un cantico di capinera
si leva dal tacito bosco.

E il cantico all'ombre segrete
per dove invisibile io siedo,
con voce di flauto ripete,
Io ti vedo!
Star BG  Apr 2019
Shadow
Star BG Apr 2019
In the wounded shadow
we must shine light.
Consciously choose
expansion into a rebirth
to cleanse pain.

The wounded shadow
calls out burning like fire
with purpose
so Phoenix of self and world
can emerge.

It’s flames dance so we
purge remnants of old
that no longer serve.
That stipe truth from emerging

It’s time for
cathedral of heart to be built
for all to see.

See a new structure
of human form meant
to sing with choir of soul.

Let us all come together with love,
and weave a time line of peace.
Saw the burning Cathedral photo thus this poem was born.
Guardi la vostra casa sopra un rivo,
sopra le stipe, sopra le ginestre;
ed entri l'eco d'un gorgheggio estivo
dalle finestre.
Dolce dormire con nel sogno il canto
dell'usignuolo! E sian sotto la gronda
rondini nere. Dolce avere accanto
chi vi risponda,
sul far dell'alba, quando voi direte
pian piano: È vero che non s'è più soli?
Sì, sì, diranno, vero ver... Che liete
grida! Che voli!
Sul far dell'alba, quando tutto ancora
sembra dormir dietro le imposte unite!
Sembra, e non è. Voi sì, forse, in quell'ora,
madri, dormite.
Sognate biondo: nelle vostre *****
non un fil bianco: bianche, nel giardino,
sono, sì, quelle ch'ora vi tendeste,
fascie di lino.
Guardi la vostra casa sopra un rivo,
sopra le stipe, sopra le ginestre;
ed entri l'eco d'un gorgheggio estivo
dalle finestre.
Dolce dormire con nel sogno il canto
dell'usignuolo! E sian sotto la gronda
rondini nere. Dolce avere accanto
chi vi risponda,
sul far dell'alba, quando voi direte
pian piano: È vero che non s'è più soli?
Sì, sì, diranno, vero ver... Che liete
grida! Che voli!
Sul far dell'alba, quando tutto ancora
sembra dormir dietro le imposte unite!
Sembra, e non è. Voi sì, forse, in quell'ora,
madri, dormite.
Sognate biondo: nelle vostre *****
non un fil bianco: bianche, nel giardino,
sono, sì, quelle ch'ora vi tendeste,
fascie di lino.
Errai nell'oblio della valle
tra ciuffi di stipe fiorite,
tra quercie rigonfie di galle;

errai nella macchia più sola,
per dove tra foglie marcite
spuntava l'azzurra viola;

errai per i botri solinghi:
la cincia vedeva dai pini:
sbuffava i suoi piccoli ringhi
argentini.

Io siedo invisibile e solo
tra monti e foreste: la sera
non freme d'un grido, d'un volo.

Io siedo invisibile e fosco;
ma un cantico di capinera
si leva dal tacito bosco.

E il cantico all'ombre segrete
per dove invisibile io siedo,
con voce di flauto ripete,
Io ti vedo!

— The End —