Output list
WCHull's (wchull on UKA) UKArchive
84 Archived submissions found.
| Title |
|---|
| My Cup of Tea (posted on: 02-10-15) Only thing missing are tea biscuits.... I love my cup of tea I do, Two sugars - stirred quite well, No cream, just tea bag floating 'round There in my cup just filled. The taste of tea well brewed sure can Give freshness to my day, Reduce my mind filled worries that Just seem to flock my way. A small relief from daily chores, My cup of tea gives me As I lean back and sip it hot And from my tasks be free. I love my cup of tea I do Quite strong with swirling steam, As I relax with sips of tea I love without a cream. W.C.Hull © 2000-20-7-022 (A) Archived comments for My Cup of Tea shadow on 03-10-2015 My Cup of Tea Well said - the good old British cuppa deserves to be celebrated (milk but no sugar for me, please). Author's Reply: |
| The Old Maple Tree (posted on: 18-09-15) Another old and stately Maple tree bites d'dust. Where was your mother's rooted ground Your seed came from, blown on winds? What forest did she grow up in On sunny and on rainy days? What, through the years, have you seen come And go its way through passing time - The stage coach and the old iron horse And many others of their ilk? How many lovers kissed beneath Your stately branches, full of leaves Or carved initials in your bark To last forever, so they swore? And now, your days are numbered and No more through passing time you'll grow. Tomorrow'll see a new highway Go through yon hillside where you stand. W.C.Hull © 2014-2-12-893 (E) Archived comments for The Old Maple Tree Kipper on 18-09-2015 The Old Maple Tree We take them so much for granted and yet in many ways I feel that the appreciation of tree is integral to that which makes some of us want to express ourselves artistically. (By whatever means we can) I think your piece has caught that feeling very well. Michael Author's Reply: Gee on 19-09-2015 The Old Maple Tree Such a sad thought that something that has lasted so long and seen so much has to be cut down. This is really well written. Author's Reply: sweetwater on 19-09-2015 The Old Maple Tree So sad, really touched my heart, why must man thoughtlessly destroy so much, for his own greed. Beautiful poem. Sue. Author's Reply: deadpoet on 27-09-2015 The Old Maple Tree I understand the remorse- feel it myself too and you put it across well for me to feel this reading your poem. I believe it would be more civilised to let the trees be- perhaps build around them ?? Author's Reply: |
| I'll Give You a Red Rose a Day (posted on: 04-09-15) True love and red roses cannot be replaced. I'll give you a red rose a day If your love you will give to me Every day of your life, you'll see, I'll give you a red rose a day. As we grow loving in marriage With two kids to bring up in life, Working to keep it together, I'll give you a red rose a day. When we retire and get older Up country or out on the seas, Together we will love each other I'll give you a red rose a day. And when they say last rites for you, I'm standing alone, incomplete As they lower you down - I'll cry And I'll give you your last red rose. W.C.Hull © 2015-28-8-943 (E) Archived comments for I'll Give You a Red Rose a Day Mikeverdi on 04-09-2015 Ill Give You a Red Rose a Day I give my wife roses every week. Like this sentiment. Mike Author's Reply: Thank you. Charles sweetwater on 05-09-2015 Ill Give You a Red Rose a Day My first thoughts here are, what a beautiful sentiment, how wonderful to have that love from someone, then my less romantic, more practical voice popped up, how would you get her a rose if you were out on the seas, would she not get rather bored with the same colour rose every day, how about varying the colours each day, perhaps one in her favourite colour ( that way more thought has gone into it ) so sorry please ignore me, I can be very down to earth at times! This is a very good poem and I loved it, perhaps a hint of jealousy on my part crept in? :-)) Sue x Author's Reply: He could have prearranged for delivery from a florist of that one red rose a day when he was at sea. However, the intent was that both were on the high seas vacationing at the same time and red roses were available on the ship, his or others or in various ports - and - "ee"- she preferred red. Thanks. Charles Kipper on 05-09-2015 Ill Give You a Red Rose a Day It is a curious thing if my somewhat failing memory is correct, that in the fifty six years we have been together, I have never given my wife a red rose. Now I feel very guilty! Like the others I applaud the sentiment of your poem, but I feel that the rhythm is a little uneven which prevents it from flowing. Worth a little TLC I think Michael Author's Reply: |
| Up Country In An Early Morn (posted on: 24-08-15) Everyone should have days like this one to put one's job in its place. In an early Sunday morning I'm at my cabin, on my deck Of treated woods and painted trims. I sit in the way of the rising sun With warming rays engulfing me, Enticing me breathe deeply in And exhale just as satisfied. Early morning Robins and their kin birds Chirp approvals of this warming air And worms and bugs. I sit in my patio chair and drink in Pleasant cooking smells of bacon and eggs From our kitchen stove Where my wife, Myrtle, is doing her thing. It's her early morning too! Thoughts of the office creep into my mind And I kick them out just as fast- Giving myself two thumbs up. I'm soooo up country in an early morn And what could beat the joys of this? W.C.Hull © 2015-1-5-934 (E) Archived comments for Up Country In An Early Morn Mikeverdi on 24-08-2015 Up Country In An Early Morn An inspiring thought, like it!! Mike Author's Reply: Ideal occupation isn't it? Thanks. Charles |
| TO A THOUGHT... (posted on: 17-08-15) How often do we all experience the gain of or loss of a thought? It was there - it's gone. Where did that come from? Thoughts go with the flows. Where were you formed and why and when Did you become reality To dwell within this mind of mine, A stranger in my life? A thought you are, but are you mine Or someone else's thought? And, why appear at this time in My daily life's affairs? A moment ago, you weren't there When I had little on my mind, Was giving me a ''thinking break'' Just watching time go by. Did someone lose you from their thoughts, Sit asking where you flew, Try to recall just where you went While you were here with me. Now, you've gone and disappeared, You are no longer in my mind. What was that thing that you proposed That I was slow to grasp? Fleeting thoughts are all like that Here today, gone tomorrow. Wherever it ends up I hope It will be acted on. W.C.Hull © 2014-19-12-902 (E) Archived comments for TO A THOUGHT... sweetwater on 18-08-2015 TO A THOUGHT... Very clever, I have often pondered on this very thing, so glad you have managed to capture enough of them to write this. đ Sue. Author's Reply: Thanks. The thought I had must have passed your space. That's why I keep writing paper books and pen always handy. But, that doesn't always work - I'm too slow to do. Damn! I had a thought about changing my lotto numbers - now I don't remember what those numbers were - but I bet they are in someone else's mind as I type. Charles |
| The Twelfth Christmas Light Bulb Relit (posted on: 07-08-15) There's always one something that occurs which never belongs in any project. I placed twelve light bulbs up Atop the house roof high And climbed back down my ladder's steps, Stood safely on the ground Where I plugged in a plug Into an outlet there With springy flap and safety cap And snowflakes falling down. The string of colored bulbs Brightly lit up, every one Except the last one on the end Which had no light at all But stayed dark, had no glow Like all the rest, so bright, And then I knew, back up I'd go, Upon my roof again. A sheep, a herder lost Into a ditch, he saved. A coin that rolled into a stream Its owner sought and found. I had an obligation To get that bulb to shine. So, back up I went, tightened it And Christmassy it glowed. W.C.Hull © 2015-19-7 -926 (E) Archived comments for The Twelfth Christmas Light Bulb Relit sweetwater on 08-08-2015 The Twelfth Christmas Light Bulb Relit We just have to do it don't we, these things gnaw at us until we can Ignore them no longer. Nice story-led poem, great images. Just one small error ( sorry ) second line second verse ' everyone' in this case you need ' every one' sue. Author's Reply: Thank you. Appreciated. Damn keyboard! I keep telling it to do its spelling lessons but it stays more interested in mousing (poetic licence) around. It does not style hair so I can't use moussing. It does move around at our command - thus I say mousing. Have a nice day. deadpoet on 09-08-2015 The Twelfth Christmas Light Bulb Relit Nothing like a Christmas poem in the middle of my Summer! Thank you for the read. Enjoyed it very much WCHull. Author's Reply: No - thank you "every one" for reading and enjoying. W.C.Hull chant_z on 14-08-2015 The Twelfth Christmas Light Bulb Relit Very fine flow in this read indeed; I forgot what time it was ... Author's Reply: Thank you. I try to have my "Pick and Shovel" poetry, my poems, have enjoyable flow reads and give my readers an escape from everyday mind concerns. My web site at www.poetrypoem.com/wchullpoetry is named "Soul Mirrors" for just that reason. Your comment pleased me. |
| Nelson Has Passed Over (posted on: 03-01-14) Nelson Has Passed Over. Job Done Successfully! A Tribute.... Nelson has left the building - of his lifelong construction, Wherein he built so that black and white South Africans Could abide together in equality and co-operation, Ridding themselves of apartheid and envisioning brighter Tomorrows ahead for all. He was thrown into a Robben Island prison cell, Six square feet, called a criminal, prisoner number 46664, With nothing but a bed roll, small stool and a tiny pee pot For his struggles to free his fellow South Africans of the Slavery of racism within that apartheid. He languished twenty seven years in his cell until the light of freedom Was allowed to shine upon his head again, reflecting from there Around the world, gaining support where 'ere it shone that Aided in the making his dreams for his fellowman come through. He will lay in rest, in death, having given life to a new South Africa For his people and the dancing of joy celebrating his life after death Will be seen and heard around the world. He was a citizen of two countries, his beloved South Africa and Made an honorary citizen of Canada and all Canadians mourned him When he passed - as an adopted son. Rest Nelson, your job is done, successfully. W.C.Hull © 2013- 6-12-2013-821 (E) Archived comments for Nelson Has Passed Over Bozzz on 03-01-2014 Nelson Has Passed Over A good tribute. Personally I feel some punctuation would be helpful to the reader. Greetings....Bozzz Author's Reply: |
| I Have Naught to Say Today (posted on: 24-06-13) What do you do when you have nothing to do on a wonderful summer afternoon? ---- nuttin'--- so did I. I think that I have naught to say today, Though many are the things that bug my mind. Outside, it's such a nice day weather wise, I think I'll just lie back upon this grassy knoll And let whatever thoughts surf through my brain. No sense in burdening myself today. Cool temperatures and sky clouds went away. Warm midday breezes ruffle through my hair. Very quiet- not too many sounds emitting here, Just birds and bees and sea gulls shrieking shrill. I say that I have naught to say today. All things that bug my mind I have set free. This weather day's so nice, I am lazing out. Here upon this grassy knoll I find I'm dozing off And here comes again my love of Dozzyville. W.C.Hull © 2013-8-6-800 (D) Archived comments for I Have Naught to Say Today Savvi on 24-06-2013 I Have Naught to Say Today Dozzyville keeps creeping up behind me these days, I must be working too hard, this is very gentle, floating along on a warm summers breeze. Other than that I have nothing else to say today đ S Author's Reply: Pronto on 25-06-2013 I Have Naught to Say Today Yup, since I retired I've treated myself to a few days like this (Weather permitting) Author's Reply: |
| My Cat (posted on: 03-05-13) Many people love their cat or cats My cat's the world's most wonderful cat, She's fluffy, warm and playful, Tormenting and inquisitive And likes to play with me. My cat curls up on our chesterfield Or on her kitchen mat. She likes to run and play and jump Chase strings and things like that. My cat likes me, she tells me so With licks, meows and purrs. She always wants to play with me And toys I've given her. I miss her when in school I am In sunshine or in rain And I can't wait to get back home To play with her again. W.C.Hull 2013-20-4-685 (D) Archived comments for My Cat japanesewind on 04-05-2013 My Cat I could see that cat, "curled up on that chesterfield" good line...D Author's Reply: |
| Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish (posted on: 19-04-13) Recognizing Amanda's pet tropical fish she calls Flo. Just discovered she's really a he. So I've restructured this poem. (e-e-e) Flo sits or swims and wishes for To be fed more than he'll get, For someone to stop by and see He's really a fishy pet. Floating around in his fish bowl Among white pillars out of Rome, He spends his days in H2O- His fish bowl for a home. He recognizes vocal tones Of all who come to see him there And playfully fins one and all Who'll stand and at him stare. Oh, the life of a fish has Flo, Reposing there in his fish bowl, Awaiting morsels from his queen Once or twice a day, we're told. W.C.Hull © 2013-14-4-675 (D) Archived comments for Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish Andrea on 20-04-2013 Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish Awww, good ol' Flo đ Nice to see you posting again, too! Author's Reply: Miel on 20-04-2013 Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish I enjoyed this read.. Author's Reply: teifii on 20-04-2013 Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish I enjoyed it too. Lucky for Flo she doesn't get all she wants as overfeeding is fatal to fish I gather. Author's Reply: WCHull on 22-04-2013 Ode to Flo the Tropical Fish Thanks all. Flo, it turns out is a he - who knew? Poem restructured. (e-e-e-) Author's Reply: |
| She Cuddles Closer (posted on: 21-01-05) Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.............use your imagination.... She cuddles closer to my chest. I smell her ''blooming rose'' perfume. Excited inner feelings rise much higher than before, Bidding others follow, hand in hand. I smell within her hair new worlds, My arms caress her closer now And I feel heaven's not so very far away from here- Valleys, mountains lie ahead to know. Mount Everest climbed in seconds flat With her, not Hillary as lead, Deep caverns willingly divulge the secrets of her soul. Surface hot springs gush heated steam. I, on two pyramids gaze down, Aglow in desert sunlight bright And clinging, ride her surfing ocean waves to every shore. I can't stop the shivers of her winds, As intertwined, we lie quieter. She purrs, then whispers, ''Oh my Gawd! Did you really put all those gorgeous stars up in my sky,'' As I float back to her sweet smile. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for She Cuddles Closer HelenRussell on 2005-01-24 16:57:45 Re: She Cuddles Closer Ooh how naughty đ Surprised you haven't had any comments yet! A good read for me. Helen Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-02-07 01:51:39 Re: She Cuddles Closer Thank you Helen. Par for the course... Author's Reply: |
| Where To Write Or Not To Write (posted on: 21-01-05) All of us writers have our fav places...under Newton's tree...in Albert's lab...on the "throne"....wherever.... Some, so inclined, write late at night Neath forty watts of glow, While others write in bright daylight In sunshine, rain or snow. More, when inclined while traveling, Pen thoughts to papers' care While others write at work when they Find time or if they dare. But, I will write most generally From here in my ''throne'' room Where I can ponder many things And where I daily groom. Some be inspired by love or lust, Some by the spirit wines, While I'm inspired each time I sit Upon this throne of mine. To write or not to write's the thing, To each their writing own. You write from where you will and I Will write from on my throne. W.C.Hull © 2005118 Archived comments for Where To Write Or Not To Write shadow on 2005-01-21 05:29:37 Re: Where To Write Or Not To Write What a delightful mental picture this conjures up! Keep up the good work đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-21 19:25:22 Re: Where To Write Or Not To Write Eh! Shadow. Astute can apply to the reason for your reply....takes that to reply. Thanks. Sometimes I call it relieved poetry. Hehehe... W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| Neil (posted on: 17-01-05) A tribute to a brother-in-law and a friend who recently passed on at a young age. He left without a word, in his sleep, No fuss, no goodbyes, And crossed over that great divide To where spirits dwell Meeting Keith, Harvey And father George And others gathered for his return To where he had come from. Times will be for remembering For the joy that he was, Not sadness that he's gone, But, happiness that he lived As long as he did with what he had, Which tormented his soul Every day and every night. We'll look and not see him there, Wherever we remember we saw him But in our memories he will appear, And we will remember he was here. Goodbye and may the good Lord Take you by the hand and lead you To gardens of beautiful flowers Where burdens grow no more For you. W.C.Hull © 200519 Archived comments for Neil Gerry on 2005-01-17 14:56:24 Re: Neil A very nice tribute. I can never understand why we are told "We are celebrating the life" when we are in fact "Mourning the death" Gerry. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-18 03:58:23 Re: Neil Thanks Gerry. Life has its many quirks to ponder. Author's Reply: HelenRussell on 2005-01-22 17:43:25 Re: Neil This is so personal that nothing can be said which will have as much meaning as this does for you, and no doubt for him. I am sure he is touched by it. Helen. Author's Reply: |
| As A Leaf Falls From A Tree (posted on: 17-01-05) It's sad when one must finally admit love has ended. As a leaf falls from a tree In autumn's end, Prior to winter's freeze, You've taken all your love away from me And we no more, as leaf and tree, Will grow together old. I feel so alone without you here On the grounds of autumn's chills, Without the warmth of your embrace, your love, And when spring returns, where will I be, When new life buds new young leaves? I will be gone, no more to feel Your branches, searching pleasures, In the warmth of a summer's sun, Nor cuddle into you In the cool of a full moon night. Winter's freeze now has begun. W.C.Hull © 200519 Archived comments for As A Leaf Falls From A Tree WCHull on 2005-01-18 04:03:09 Re: As A Leaf Falls From A Tree and who will uncover the meaning in this one .....? Author's Reply: |
| Here's To The Ladies (posted on: 14-01-05) Cheers....!! Here's to the ladies who fluttered their eyes While holding their big boyfriend's hand, Who played tickle toesies under the table While singing all their praises so grand. Here's to the waitress whose man came around For to pick her up after work, She'd already whispered to me that that night She'd prefer not to be with that jerk Here's to the women so happily wed Who come in here just for a drink. The afternoons sped by, quickly I recall, With the sins that do start with a wink! And here's to some who did none of those things, Such joys to be with them, is all. For in them was truth, you could hang your hat on And your happiness made you stand tall. Here's to the ladies I never did meet, So beautiful without a doubt. Oh, what I've missed because I'd never met them - They were never out running about. W.C.Hull © 2005111 Archived comments for Here's To The Ladies tai on 2005-01-14 05:41:42 Re: Here's To The Ladies Hi WCHull, I enjoyed your little ditty. I gave it an 8 because it was not quite what I expected. Erotica is my middle name and your sweet tribute to all those women, was definitely not erotic.lol All the best for 2005 Smiling Tai Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2005-01-14 10:11:53 Re: Here's To The Ladies WCHull, Oh this one gave me a tickle! Fine and clever read and a fav! Regards, Adele đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-14 14:01:12 Re: Here's To The Ladies Actually, it was surface material. Maybe one poem I'll write the afternoon and overnight details in more vivid descriptions. Thanks for the read. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-14 14:02:38 Re: Here's To The Ladies Thanks deepoceanfish2. It's always a honor to know you read and appreciate. Author's Reply: Gerry on 2005-01-14 14:43:24 Re: Here's To The Ladies Clever little poem--I liked it... Gerry. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-14 16:51:55 Re: Here's To The Ladies Thanks Gerry Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-15 18:04:24 Re: Here's To The Ladies Here's another one to the ladies....cheers! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-15 18:51:37 Re: Here's To The Ladies Ah, yes!! and here's to wassername... Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-16 10:41:53 Re: Here's To The Ladies and Mister farmer's oldest daughter... Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-18 04:01:32 Re: Here's To The Ladies and here's to the first time school teacher that is no more....... Author's Reply: |
| Seeds For South East Asia (posted on: 14-01-05) Everyone has a spare seed. Take yours to your fav charity to help the cause. Here is a seed for South East Asia Just a little seed from me, Just a wee seed I have to give That one day can grow up a tree Or raise a field of maize or corn Or grow a big banana crop Or grow up cotton fields to clothe A child who today has no pop. Here's a seed for South East Asia Do you have a spare seed too? No matter what the seed you have How little you can today do. No matter what your state today, Give what you can, a dime, a buck, Send forth your little seed that may Help someone else down on their luck. Here is a seed for South East Asia Indonesia and all Sri Lanka, India And every soul from where it calls. Open up your hearts, your wallets, Send your little seed today. Today its South East Asia but Tomorrow a wave may roll your way. W.C.Hull © 2005113 Archived comments for Seeds For South East Asia MiddleEarthNet on 2005-01-14 13:14:59 Re: Seeds For South East Asia I like this. Obviously written with recent events in mind but if you look beyond that that to other people in the world who have little. And I agree with the message. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-15 18:50:04 Re: Seeds For South East Asia I realize everyone will do what they will do. I just wanted to remind the remindable that help is still needed and that it can happen anywhere, not just down there. It happened here in Newfoundland in 1929, albeit on a much smaller scale. What would happen if it occurred with a series of 100 foot waves in most coastlines around the world? Author's Reply: |
| Allan (posted on: 10-01-05) A Story Poem......a true story poem. When younger, a hard life he had, Been beaten many times By booze that drunkened his old man Whose belt he felt in welts That scarred him for his next day's school, Of which he always lied, A fall, a mishap, anything, But tell the truth of all. He was his daddy's punching bag When on the booze got he, As if some demon's anger had To be unleashed on him. His momma could do nothing 'cept Stay clear of belts and fists, For he'd attacked her too while she Carried his brother's life. His poppa turned a lunatic When on the rum he sucked And many times, the lad near dead, Had wished that he had died. He had two smaller brothers who Had felt the demon's rage, But he most times stepped in while they From their old man were saved. We used to play when we as boys Grew up on Humber Heights. I well remember times I tried To block out screams and rage When he a black eye next day wore But, shrugged it off and said That one day he'd be outta here, And never to return. He got out of his hated life And went out on his own, Got drunk in a bar in downtown, Beat up and killed a man. He spent twelve years in prison for His drunkened rage and fit, Bequeathed to him by his papa He wanted to disown. He tried a marriage - two or three, But neither had worked out, No children, thank God, in them and All three did split apart. He took to crime, and robbed some banks As well as burglered homes, A rape, an ill intended gun, Incarcerated chains. When out, he found the Jesus thing And tried real hard to change, But, changing would not be his thing, He knew not where he was Because his world, his lot in life Was not the now in thing And once again he drifted to The spirit realm of booze. One night a break in, sirens wailed, Cut short was freedom's dream. He stood knowingly, handgun aimed As cops came closing in. A hail of shots and down he fell They carted him away. His last words spoken as relayed Were ''Thank God for this day.'' W.C.Hull © 200518 Archived comments for Allan WCHull on 2005-01-10 17:25:53 Re: Allan Oh, the silent reads... Author's Reply: |
| Critiques (posted on: 07-01-05) The measuring rod of the written word.... A few critiques I've stored away, About each thing I write, A poem, short story, novel or A paper on something. Some have dispensed their views to me In e-mails and replies, But, others seem to read on by Without views left behind. Maybe it's good they left me none And read right on their way, For criticism they left not In what they did not write. It's maybe not a good thing though They left not their critiques, For how am I supposed to know Just how they really felt? Critiques are few, and all I get I do appreciate, For in them I can view their truths In honesty displayed. W.C.Hull © 20041229 Archived comments for Critiques shadow on 2005-01-07 06:36:40 Re: Critiques How very true, you are alwaysleft wondering what the people who read but did not comment thought of your work. Maybe they never got beyond the first few lines. Tnen, I don't comment on everthing either. Can't always think of something useful to say, especially on poetry. I like this one though. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-07 14:01:43 Re: Critiques Thank you . You nailed it. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-07 14:09:33 Re: Critiques Its like -- is it better to receive or not receive? Hmmmmmmmmm...? Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-08 20:25:17 Re: Critiques Maybe you'll like "Allan" more..watch for it... Author's Reply: HelenRussell on 2005-01-17 05:23:41 Re: Critiques This has crossed my mind many a time too, though I was never inspired to express it in the way that you have. Just a thought, some of those "hits" could be from guests rather than registered members, therefore unable to comment? (that's what I've managed to convince myself anyway!) But, here's another comment to add to your list- Nicely done đ And a note to all those out there who read and don't think it worthy of comment- WE NEED TO HEAR THE NEGATIVE AS WELL! Regards Helen Author's Reply: |
| A New Pen (posted on: 07-01-05) To a new found ball point pen.... Here's a new pen with which I'll write Another poem or two, A song, short story, ditty rhyme To entertain just you. I picked it up from on the street - Who owned it? - I don't know Or how it came to end up there, As homeward I did go. Its life, its times I'll never know, Did it write love letters? Or did it write scrawled ransom notes To give bank clerks jitters? But now, oh well! And onward James! Its future'll write my poems, My songs, short stories, ditty rhymes And it can call here ''home''. W.C.Hull © 200515 Archived comments for A New Pen Leila on 2005-01-07 12:21:23 Re: A New Pen What a delightful poem, I really enjoyed this...L Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-07 14:00:23 Re: A New Pen Thank you. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-07 14:03:54 Re: A New Pen Ever wonder these things about a pen that you have found and knew not who owned it or what it was used for in its past? Author's Reply: chrissy on 2005-01-08 02:49:36 Re: A New Pen I think the pen could have been mine. I'm always losing them. I liked this poem. It was a good read. chrissy Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-08 06:57:05 Re: A New Pen Do you think? I could send it by post. You may have a poem or two left in it unwritten. Thank you. Anyone else lose a pen with unfinished works still inside it unwritten? Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-08 20:23:55 Re: A New Pen And now ...watch for "Allan"..... Author's Reply: |
| Saved By A Whale (posted on: 31-12-04) A Story Poem... He'd met her at an old friend's house In an outport in Newfoundland, A widowed mom with a young son, She, still, a beauty to behold. The Christmas cheer was homemade where Spirits of glee enticed them dance As mummers scuffed the floors, disguised, Two lives together waltzed as one. Winter dragged on, finally spring Came slowly to these fishing shores. The young lad was thirteen years old Expected now to do his share. Fishing was not a rich man's chore Unless he was a processor, A merchant, buyer, union head, Made profits off the fishermen. To weekly school they sent the lad And Sunday school to learn the rules, To do God's right and shun the wrong, To not do as some others did. A brother for the lad was due Come early fall, in woman's time But, fishing was not good that year As catches were way down in size. One morning, early before dawn, At four am as fishers do, The two set out in their small boat To haul fishnets, bring home their catch. A clouded moon saw little wind, But, nothing fishermen can't take, Their catch was good, as pay would be When sold down at the buyer's plant. Rounding a knoll where jutting rocks Always produced strong sudden waves That from nowhere, like ghosts appeared Just as it happened on this day. There, not a mile from land, at sea, A ghostly wave rose up and tossed Their little fishing boat askew, All upside down into sea swells. As panic swept throughout their minds, The lad swam hard, clung to the boat, Keel up and tossing in the sprays But, couldn't see the fisherman. He drifted with the boat and foams In wind and tide towards the shore, The fisherman strong on his mind, Seawater salty on his lips. He prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed As on the beach their boat was swept And he, exhausted, stood there wet And staring out upon the sea, But, his young eyes could not discern The fisherman, he feared had drowned, Although he prayed and prayed his prayers His mother's husband would survive. ''What's that?'' he thought as from the waves A huge humpback displayed its tail And headed straight to shore and beached With opened mouth on gray wet sand. He ran and there unconscious on The whale's huge tongue lay fisherman. He dragged him clear unto the sand Alive and breathing, coming to. ''Miraculous!'' the young lad thought, ''How could this thing have come to be? Does God this day and age indeed, Answer small prayers of lads like me? It must have been! No other way Could that man have survived the sea And ended up on this whale's tongue Here on this beach, alive and well.'' The whale removed itself to sea As he screamed thanks and he thanked God. His shoulders held up fisherman, Oh, such a happy lad was he. They dragged themselves up o'er the hill From beach to town where warmth was found In clothing, fire and homemade soup And this tale these fishermen told. W.C.Hull © 20041223525 Archived comments for Saved By A Whale deepoceanfish2 on 2005-01-01 14:37:42 Re: Saved By A Whale WCHul, What a charming and fascinating fold rendering! Very nicely done! Happy New Year! Regards, Adele đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-01 15:46:51 Re: Saved By A Whale Thank you kindly. Author's Reply: |
| Jessica's Run Away For Good (posted on: 31-12-04) To all the Jessicas of the world... She dialed the number, scared as hell, Convinced that she could do it Cause she really had no choice but Call someone, somewhere now. For days and weeks she'd been alone No one to hold her close, No one to tell her she was loved No one to keep her warm, Just lonely loneliness downtown Where strangers could have been friends Had she not been taught to stay away From them, everyone, everywhere, To trust them not - no not one. Twenty one times the phone tone rang Somewhere in her parents' home But, no one answered, said ''Hello''. The recorder had been turned off too For somewhere, a party ran the night And there was silence in her mind And in her heart about the space Of half a thought. They stuffed her in their body bag And listed her as another unknown Who died in old downtown last night Scared and all alone. W.C.Hull © 20041219 Archived comments for Jessica's Run Away For Good Michel on 2004-12-31 02:33:45 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Too true. Author's Reply: Hazy on 2004-12-31 06:06:14 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good This is really moving and IMO very well executed. It's one I won't forget in a hurry. Def a 'fave read' for me. Couple of very small points... Feels like you need to add a 'to' at the end of line 3. Had sheâd not been taught to stay away = think it should just read 'Had she not' Somewhere in her parents home = parents' Also you have 'downtown' at the end, and 'down town' nearer the beginning. Take care. Hazy x Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-31 11:54:58 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good wchull, You've said it well...an evocative and darkly moving read. Regards, Adele Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-31 18:46:56 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Thank you all and Hazy Friday, I have corrected 3 of 4 points ( well pointed out) but used poetic licence where "to" is assumed to be understood, as I find in most conversations these days. I appreciate your reads and the help. Happy New Year cheers. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-31 18:54:02 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good The world has many Jessicas. How many of you have know one or more? Author's Reply: riggy on 2005-01-02 17:35:06 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good I'm so grateful that I don't know any "Jessica's" but you seem to have managed to create the hopelessness and despair, which I could easily imagine anyone in this situation feeling, in this short poem. Thank you meg Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-03 21:47:46 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Life only gives up its secrets at death. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-03 21:48:57 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Thank you. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-03 21:49:54 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Thanks. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-06 21:35:49 Re: Jessica's Run Away For Good Thank you all for your comments. Author's Reply: |
| The Lowly Clothespin (posted on: 24-12-04) A tribute to a windy washday warrior. The Lowly Clothespin Not many people give much credit anymore to the lowly clothespin. It's generally considered as being a woman's thing in that women usually do the washing and hanging out of washed clothes on the clothes line on wash day. That activity demands the services of the lowly, three piece, deceptively strong little buggers of pain called clothespins, unless of course, the wash is dried in modern $1 laundromat dryers with dryer sheets acting as fresh breezes of drying scented winds. It is used to secure, with more security than the military seems able to provide these days, items fresh out of the washday washer, to a clothesline, against stiff washday breezes, winds and easterly gales, children at play and even neighbourhood pranksters and peepers. The three piece clothespin is a very unique item and invention. Studying it, one is apt to ponder just how many pinches of excruciating pain its inventor had to endure before perfecting it and whether his or her nose, ears, and fingers were operating guinea pigs? With its familiar wooden or plastic two identical sideboards and damn sturdy spring, it can become an exercise thingy or a real painer. With just two fingers one can spend exciting hours of quality or otherwise time squeezing the damn stiff sideboards together together together time and time again and again, repeatedly, until an aching pain develops in one's forearm, hand or fingers. It can hold coins or paper money bills firmly for you between its otherwise dormant jaws or hold a stack of papers when one runs out of paper clips. When carrying a spare in one's pocket or purse, it can come to a thankful rescue holding together that embarrassing sudden opening in one's shirt, pants or blouse when one of the defender buttons or zippers decides to vacate its post and purpose its job. Yet, without fanfare it sits out in the back porch or down in the basement on the laundry table or elsewhere, awaiting its next call to duty on the next upcoming, recurring weekly windy washday. Carelessly used, it can cause that before noted excruciating pain when allowed to clamp its powerful jaws grippingly onto one's sensitive nose tip, fingers, ears, toes or otherwise sensitive body parts even delving at times into erotic activities. Render unto Cesar!? Give the lowly close pin its respect also and the next time you're in the garden or anywhere else, even walking down a street and see a downed one of those windy washday troopers, pick it up and pin it back on some clothesline, somewhere or bring it home and give to mom, grandma or sis. The next shirt or blouse to be dried in outdoors blowing fresh air on some future windy washday may be you own. W.C.Hull © 2001212467 Archived comments for The Lowly Clothespin WCHull on 2004-12-27 21:58:48 Re: The Lowly Clothespin Seems the season has zapped the wee bit of humour out ya all..... or has this piece rekindled an old pinch? Author's Reply: |
| Christmas In Our Town (posted on: 20-12-04) Christmas brings surprises everywhere. How is it in your neighbourhood? Snowflakes falling all around, On the houses, on the grounds, On the trees, out on the streets, Isn't Christmas kinda neat? Look around all over town, See colored lights aglow around Christmas trees alive at night, All making these nights seem just right, Carols singing on cold winds Sending chills down spines ag'in, Oh, such neighborly greetings Oh, the Christmassy feelings, The neighbor's party's out of hand, Not really hard to understand Since booze and dope fly people high, The fool thought he could really fly From off the balcony to ground But on the snowy walk was found With every star smashed in head Oh, the things the neighbors said Like "Merry Christmas". Snowflakes falling all around Christmas lights up our small town. Oh, the neighbourly greetings And these Christmassy feelings! W.C.Hull 20041218 Archived comments for Christmas In Our Town WCHull on 2004-12-20 18:10:31 Re: Christmas In Our Town And how are Christmas times in your town, city or village? Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-21 09:40:20 Re: Christmas In Our Town WC, This was smashing. It came across as a Hallmark Greetng of holiday splendour and then took a 180 degree turn for the macabre! Very nicely done! Merry Christmas.....errm....if I may say so! Regards, Adele đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-21 11:35:12 Re: Christmas In Our Town Isn't life like that....just when you think you know the way it "should be" ? ....Thank you. Cheers. Author's Reply: |
| A Roof Top Light Bulb Relit (posted on: 17-12-04) Hmmmmmmmmmm.....the mystery of it all! I felt the cold, cold wind upon My face, my hands, my ears, Snowflakes fell on me, wet and white, Which to my eyes brought tears. I was outside hanging up lights That would in darkness glow And with their multicolored beams Create for me snow shows. When all plugged in, atop the roof, All bulbs but one beamed bright, I knew that it was ladder time, Up there this winter's night. I turned around to go and get It from my little shed, When up atop my roof, I heard A whoosh above my head. I looked way up and -Oh, my gosh! - A very bright light shone All through the sky, on houses, cars; I blinked and it was gone. The light bulb that had failed before To light was glowing bright, Much brighter than the rest of them Here on this snowy night And as its glow lit up the sky I heard a voice, I swear, Say to me, ''Take care - cast your smile To people everywhere. It's not the lights that glow that need A spark, it's those gone out. Shine forth your joy to all the world, That's what love's all about.'' W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for A Roof Top Light Bulb Relit No comments archives found! |
| Reading This Is Wasting Time (posted on: 17-12-04) Have a good one... Today I stared at this blank page And pondered what it could contain After my thoughts took wings and flew As words to me to write hereon. Would it contain a story sad, A happy moment in a life, A trip, an accident, a war Described in words, phrases here penned? Millions of thoughts poured through my mind As rain falls in a thunderstorm. But, none seemed what I thought you'd like Upon this page for you to read. Now, I would like to say ''Thank You'' For dropping by to read this poem, But, also to remind you folks, Here's not the place that you should be. For, if you have something that you Have yet today to go get done, Stop reading this; go do your thing, Cause reading this is wasting time. Have a good one ! W.C.Hull © 20041210 Archived comments for Reading This Is Wasting Time Sunken on 2004-12-17 14:25:15 Re: Reading This Is Wasting Time Lol - I have time to waste at the moment young Hull type person. I don't think I really wasted any in reading this though. Clever stuff with a hint of sarcasm. Or is that me reading it wrong? I should go spend some more time pondering. Nice 1. s u n k e n Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-18 05:31:48 Re: Reading This Is Wasting Time Thank you sunken. Actually, it's just my poetic way of reminding others that we all, as I myself find at times I do, always have something being left a little undone. Cheers. Do visit my USA poetry site at www.poetrypoem.com/wchullpoetry and enjoy. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-19 06:34:27 Re: Reading This Is Wasting Time Then again, maybe it could be a reminder,,,see....someone just remembered something they'd forgotten. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-19 16:29:43 Re: Reading This Is Wasting Time Very cleaver Hull...an enjoyable waste of my precious time, indeed! Cheers, Adele đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-19 21:03:35 Re: Reading This Is Wasting Time You're welcome. Glad you enjoyed wasting a little of your time. Author's Reply: |
Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale (posted on: 13-12-04) Those surprise storms of winter.......another tea or coffee....cream?...sugar....? Ocean in a winter's gale, How furious looking are your waves, Rising, falling with dismembered peaks Of white foams sprayed through Speeding gusts of wind and snowflakes, Eventually growling upon shorelines' Sands, washed stones and rocks, Leaving frozen white sculptures Worthy of art galleries' pedestals, Tossing large ships And little fisher boats Like match boxes in your furry, As toys in a child's bath water. I sit in awe of you, Wondering how you came to be, Where you came from, Who created you, sent you, For short hours ago you weren't Even thought of at least, by me. Then you were there, Blowing across my news weather screen, Out of my car radio With wind warnings, And wild winter weather Reports. Now, here you are Outside my ocean view Living room window. Oh, well! Another tea Sounds good to me. Sugar ? W.C.Hull © 2004128 Archived comments for Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale WCHull on 2004-12-13 05:18:43 Re: Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale Has no one out there in readers' land had this experience? Please feel free to critique this piece. Have a good read. Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-12-13 11:21:28 Re: Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale Love the sneaky irony in this! - very ATMOSPHERIC!!! Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-12-13 11:25:26 Re: Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale I've met a lot of people who boast that living on waterfront 'we never bother with the sea' but at least this poet takes a poetic, comfortable look (haha, you can't catch me! - have another - cup of tea?) Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-13 16:01:40 Re: Ocean In A Wild Winter's Gale Please expand on your view of irony therein. I should like to read your views.Thank you. Author's Reply: |
| Through A Needle's Eye (posted on: 03-12-04) Material is material. Spiritual is spiritual. And no man carries his riches into Heaven This little poem hopes to find you In happiness and smiling too With everything you'd ever want And that you're pleased with your life's font. That is the dream of everyone No matter where we all come from, But, few of us attain such bliss As contentment and happiness. Seems there's elite and other steps And most of us ask with our lips For better than we've come to know, Sitting outside some rich man's door. This little poem reminds you though To seek for happiness and know Things of the spiritual will last While riches rust back to their past After we have in death passed on To spirit form, we'll hear this song ''No rich man through a needle's eye Came with his riches nor his lies''. W.C.Hull © 20041018 Archived comments for Through A Needle's Eye Gerry on 2004-12-03 09:44:28 Re: Through A Needle's Eye A nice little poem and very true. Whether the reader believes in heaven or not, it's a fact nothing goes with you. Best to send it on in advance. lol. Gerry. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-12-03 15:42:42 Re: Through A Needle's Eye A transporter beam might just do the trick.....hehehe Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-04 22:14:26 Re: Through A Needle's Eye Enjoyed this - love the sentiment. Kat đ Author's Reply: |
| The Fish Fly (posted on: 03-12-04) Dang darn big black fish fly,..... Out on my balcony I sat With my writing pad and pen, A summer's afternoon, quite warm And the urge to write again. I'd finished there my ice-cold beer. Stopped watching young ladies gait And turning took my pen in hand, My new poem just couldn't wait. But, to my despair, sitting there, Lick cleaning itself all o'er, Stood a fish fly, spied by my eye, Using my sheet as its floor. I recall its buzz just because, Over me, it flew about, Fly diving, bugging and zooming, Ever since when I came out. I caught a sight, just to my right, My newspaper not yet read, And tightly clutched it in my hand To swat that damn fly instead. But, as I held that paper high, Ready to descend on it, I thought about my younger years And just couldn't swing it yet. I had been given half a chance On a day when hell did call, When I could have felt shotgun blasts As my wife and I recall. So, I twiddled my thumbs as time Slowly went crawling on by, Sizing up ladies who gaited Sidewalks outside of my eye. Seemed an eternity later That black fish fly arose Taking to air, buzzing my ear And zooming close to my nose. I wrung up my fist at its flight Letting it know I was mad To have waited to write my poem, Losing the thread that I'd had. As I started writing my words - ''On my balcony I sat'' - That fly flew past as if to say, ''A poem about me, eh Jack?'' W.C.Hull © 20041111 Archived comments for The Fish Fly WCHull on 2004-12-04 21:50:58 Re: The Fish Fly Would it have been better that I swatted it? Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-05 01:32:27 Re: The Fish Fly Enjoyed this and can well relate - it's the buzzing that gets me. Your restraint in swatting it is admirable! Kat đ Author's Reply: |
| Somewhere Above She Gives Today (posted on: 26-11-04) There ARE good folks left in the world. You just have to look for them She'd always said she could see angels And many thought she was insane, That older lady by herself, Who'd helped others time and again. Her children had grown up and left her And started families of their own, Her husband died only last year, His car had crashed - did not come home. The down and out, the poor and homeless Found always some help from her hand. May have been small, given with love, She'd always said, ''from me and Stan''. Today a wreath upon her front door Hangs silent, saying to the world, She had to go, her time had come, No half draped flags for her unfurled. World governments did not come calling, No announcements on local news, Only roses, small white crosses Were placed upon her lawn in view. So many placed that they had to come With garbage trucks, cart it away. Now she gives, not from her front step, Somewhere above she gives today. W.C.Hull © 20041119 Archived comments for Somewhere Above She Gives Today Gerry on 2004-11-26 14:55:18 Re: Somewhere Above She Gives Today Beautiful tender poem. I have known such people--but they are indeed a rare breed. Gerry. Author's Reply: |
| Beaches of Sand & Soul (posted on: 19-11-04) Both are beautiful. I love walking on the beach, over its sands and stones, worn - beachy - over times of storms, winds rains and sunny days, like walking through your life, watching your soul reveal its days of joy, sadness, warmth of happy times, loneliness of torments and tears falling in love with me. Both are beautiful to behold, be a part of. W.C.Hull (c) 20041118 Archived comments for Beaches of Sand & Soul Sunken on 2004-11-20 14:31:35 Re: Beaches of Sand & Soul Why such a low hit count? A beautiful thought provoking piece. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-11-20 17:30:43 Re: Beaches of Sand & Soul Being someone who walks on the beach often I found this appealing...have written quite a few poems on beach/sea/soul theme, nicely done...L Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-11-21 19:22:29 Re: Beaches of Sand & Soul I agree Sunken. This author needs more credit. Take care, Paul. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-22 20:51:31 Re: Beaches of Sand & Soul Thank you folks. I appreciate your kind words. People have preferences and I respect that. Thanks for enjoying my poem and do visit my poetry site at www.poetrypoem.com/wchullpoetry - W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| Birds Sing Unheard Songs (posted on: 15-11-04) World domination and dissensions..... There came a day when mankind said They'd rule the whole world from one pad Of government for everyone And all the nations subject to The laws thereof and adhere to No more death wars and killing fields. The time came round and in that day All nations gathered, had their say And in the end all went back home Well entwined in one government To rule the Earth with its intent, Dissension wasn't yet stamped out. That day was yesterday - long gone, Today birds sing their unheard songs, No human ears to hear their tunes. A viscous war wiped all life out Except the birds that fly about In laden skies with fallout clouds. W.C.Hull © 2004119 Archived comments for Birds Sing Unheard Songs PaulS on 2004-11-21 19:31:39 Re: Birds Sing Unheard Songs W.C I must admit I prefer your verses that end with an uplifting end. I suppose to balance things out though... At least you give the telling sign to be wary of ; 'Theyâd rule the whole world from one pad Of government for everyone And all the nations subject to' A kind Babel. Take care, Paul. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-22 20:55:09 Re: Birds Sing Unheard Songs Paul, you ARE with it and very observant. Spiritualism is a wonderful thing to experience and write about so that others, as you, can discern more clearly, the material aspects in life on earth in time. Author's Reply: |
| New Things At Every Turn (posted on: 15-11-04) Journey through life and life.. I would that I could know such things As I desire to know, The answers to so many things I question here below. Before I came I understood All things creation held But, here so many things for me Are mysteries upheld. I ponder if, when I go back, Will I again, know all I knew before to Earth I came And will them I recall? No matter how many secrets Or knowledge man will learn, All are small bits of creation, New things at every turn. W.C.Hull © 200404 Archived comments for New Things At Every Turn potleek on 2004-11-17 04:58:59 Re: New Things At Every Turn I like this..are we supposed to know everything. If reincarnation is a possibility are we supposed to rember..you ask the big question...Tony Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-17 20:41:52 Re: New Things At Every Turn I believe that there is a universal spiritual library of knowledge and that under certain acceptable conditions, similar to those Edgar Cayce, the sleeping prophet of America, experienced in his sleep like trances, accessing that knowledge becomes available. But, one must assume that there are spiritual laws at work in the fray at all times, on Earth or elsewhere. Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-11-21 19:27:23 Re: New Things At Every Turn While we exist in this time frame we see 'as through a glass darkly'. Yes..but when our eyes are opened..aaah. Saul was so graced. Take care, Paul. Author's Reply: |
| Do Not To Others Do Unless (posted on: 12-11-04) Some thoughts... If you cannot see what you can be Then you cannot envision what you can become. If everyone offers solutions, only in words, Then deeds are not reality. Never tell a drinker that drinking is a bad thing Unless you are willing to vomit for him Or tell a woman her man should use a condom Unless you have no tots who call you daddy And none who ask where their momma is. Do not look directly at the sun Unless you can see in darkness As an eagle can And never wade into a raging sea Unless you can swim as well a whale And breathe without air on the ocean floor. Do not run with your feet tied together Or smile at your neighbor unless You're willing to cry with them also In times that are not their best. Never poke fun at friends Unless you are willing to carry your friend When no one else will even bother to lift them And never lay down to get a good night's sleep With a guilty conscience Or a forgiveness not given. Never try to change others' ways unless Yours have been judged and changed by others And do not tell others what to do Unless others have taught you too. Let poppies grow in Flanders fields And you in life. W.C.Hull © 200410 Archived comments for Do Not To Others Do Unless uppercase on 2004-11-12 10:28:44 Re: Do Not To Others Do Unless Words to live by I'd say. I wish I were half that good. I like your poem, very well done...Erma Author's Reply: Gerry on 2004-11-12 15:12:20 Re: Do Not To Others Do Unless A great sermon here--well written... Gerry. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-20 10:01:45 Re: Do Not To Others Do Unless Thank you. Seems , however, to others, it's but words. Author's Reply: |
| Why Am I Here? (posted on: 12-11-04) The questions asked by every soul which travels the roads of life and death each time again and again. Why am I here - Where did I come from? Why can't I remember Where I've been Though I believe in reincarnation Lives past And lives to come? Was it necessary that I come here Or did I volunteer to live This life I breath, To be here, to experience, To correct, To help, To die? Will I have to return here again Some future time, Live another obligation, Experience some other thing In future days And ways yet to be? Will I be woman or will I be man? Why am I here? When do I go, Where to And how, Which way?? If I return, when will it be? How will I know I've been here before? Will I remember? What is it like where I go to When I die and leave this mother of clay? Why was I here? Why was I there? W.C.Hull © 20041021 Archived comments for Why Am I Here? Gerry on 2004-11-12 14:52:46 Re: Why Am I Here? Wouldn't we all like to know--I hope you find the answer... Gerry. Author's Reply: |
| Upon MY Throne (posted on: 12-11-04) A surprise and humourous ending... I sit upon my throne, a lonely king. What will I say, this day, to me did bring - Happiness, more loneliness, more wealth or poverty?- I sit upon my throne, a king in slings. I sit upon my throne, a king alone. Here where I sit I do not have a phone. If I loudly shouted, not a soul would hear my words As I sit here alone upon my throne. I am the king of all my realms I see. There is no one in my throne room but me. I'm the king of my throne seat and it's kind of neat Oh, well, I'm done -the bathroom now is free. W.C.Hull © 200410 Archived comments for Upon MY Throne uppercase on 2004-11-12 08:32:53 Re: Upon MY Throne hahahah that's what I tell folks when my hubby's in the bathroom. The King is on the throne and cannot be disturbed....Erma Author's Reply: Emerald on 2004-11-14 04:59:09 Re: Upon MY Throne Enjoyed this - certainly king of all you see when seated on the throne! Emma:) Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-15 22:23:47 Re: Upon MY Throne In the end we're all the same... Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-11-21 19:35:41 Re: Upon MY Throne Nicely rounded off W.c Author's Reply: |
| The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile (posted on: 01-11-04) The Boston Red Sox chase the curse away and the Babe smiles widely.. The Curse Is Gone Look At Babe Ruth Smile The curse is gone forever now, The Red Sox vanquished it And Boston fans are glorying A year to not forget. Down to those Yankees three to zip The Bosox came right back To turf the yanks four games to three And stop the New York yak. Then to St. Louis colored Red They made those birdies sing Whopped the cardinals four to zilch To wear World Series rings. All through Bean Town and at the park, Cheers went up very loud - A player out in center field Tipped his cap to the crowd. The curse is gone forever now From baseball heaven's styles. The field of Boston's dreams has bloomed And look at Babe Ruth smile. W.C.Hull © 200410 Archived comments for The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile PaulS on 2004-11-06 19:40:28 Re: The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile Hi WC. This will really appeal to people who know about baseball. To someone like me though in little old England :-)..I am left to guess... Who is Babe Ruth? Your daughter? Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-06 20:39:44 Re: The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile Babe Ruth was the holy grail player of American baseball. In the twenty's Boston management traded him to New York Yankees and it was always said that a curse fell over the Boston Red Sox that they would never win the World Series - and - for a while this year it sure looked that way. They fell 3 game to zip to the hated Yankees but then came roaring back to win the next 4 games in a row. They then swept the St. Louis Cardinals 4 games to none to win the world series of American baseball. And if you have seen the movie "Field of Dreams" it seems Babe Ruth was watching from the other side and cheering the Boston Red Sox on and smiled when in the end they won. Regards. Charles. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-06 20:40:35 Re: The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile Babe Ruth was the holy grail player of American baseball. In the twenty's Boston management traded him to New York Yankees and it was always said that a curse fell over the Boston Red Sox that they would never win the World Series - and - for a while this year it sure looked that way. They fell 3 game to zip to the hated Yankees but then came roaring back to win the next 4 games in a row. They then swept the St. Louis Cardinals 4 games to none to win the world series of American baseball. And if you have seen the movie "Field of Dreams" it seems Babe Ruth was watching from the other side and cheering the Boston Red Sox on and smiled when in the end they won. Regards. Charles. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-11-06 20:57:50 Re: The Curse Is Gone - Look At Babe Ruth Smile Sorry that got duplicated...although it is worth repeating. Cheers. Author's Reply: |
| No God (posted on: 19-03-04) So they say.... They say, today, there is no God, This is two thousand four, That science's laws make all things work, They say God was before. Each depth or height their scopes of sight Takes them, points clearly out That there is order in all things Created without doubt. Manipulating genes' families, They quest for something new, No matter consequences they Confront in all they do. Still, science daily finds for it Questions without answers And music in all of life's songs, Rhythms in its dances. W.C.Hull © 2004 Archived comments for No God PaulS on 2004-07-09 18:16:38 Re: No God Nice to see one sent up for the Lord WC. Keep up the work. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2005-01-06 21:48:30 Re: No God Well, He's always there for me as well as others. Thanks Paul. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| Thanks Mom (posted on: 12-03-04) A wee little tribute to all moms... You gave me life by birth, You put your soul in me, Your body fed my hungry cries, You tickled dimple smiles to laugh. You walked me to my school that day, My first class in their world, You taught me things-like- we should know And how to cook and sew. You guided me to adult life, You cried when I was wed, You shone such smiles of pride when I Said, '' Your grandchild's on the way.'' What can I say to let you know Just what you mean to me? I can't, so I'll just say ''Thanks Mom!'' Let's do it all again. W.C.Hull © 2004 Archived comments for Thanks Mom ShadowChaser on 2004-03-13 15:42:49 Re: Thanks Mom Mothers are very special beings indeed, this poem shows your love for yours so deeply. A great write :o) Author's Reply: |
| Whisky, Whisky (posted on: 16-02-04) The mornings after.... Whiskey, whiskey, oh, rye whiskey, Why did you pain my sleeping head? Last night you coolly tickled downward Upon my taste buds, ice cubes led. You made me happy, sang some songs, Enticed me dance with auntie May And did I really climb Mount Everest? Did all those ceilings really sway? Whiskey, whiskey, oh, rye whiskey, As smooth as silk in cunning's sway. You made me feel like I could fly high, But oh, my head hurts so today. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Whisky, Whisky WCHull on 2004-02-16 03:41:11 Re: Whisky, Whisky How many have ever experienced the morning after the night before? Author's Reply: ShadowChaser on 2004-02-18 15:25:08 Re: Whisky, Whisky Been there!!...Oh, how I've been there! I liked the way this flowed (just like the whisky itself!) and the rhythm is just divine.....(just like the whisky....) Author's Reply: |
| Love (posted on: 16-02-04) My thoughts on love...what are yours ? Love vibrates on an energy level That gives everyone who encounters it an uplifting. It brings the meanest man to his knees And the smile of a child can melt the coldest of hearts While it can bring down the walls of a woman hurt And be the fortress of a family's inner circle. Love can make a gentleman out of a bully And a good mom out of a tomboy While enticing the old grouch to say ''hello'' And the older brother or sister to pick up for you Among your friends or foes. Love can destroy a nation or build one up! It can be the only resource one has left in bad times Although to use it or not is your freedom of choice. It is always surrounding you Just outside the cubicle you've built around your heart. Nothing gives you more second chances in life And it will never abandon you. You can run from it but never away from it And when you die and pass over from this life It is the first friend who'll greet you On the other side. God knew what He was doing When He created love. So Love W.C.Hull © 2004 Archived comments for Love WCHull on 2004-02-16 03:43:14 Re: Love No rhyme scheme....easy flow read...tell me what you think. Author's Reply: |
| The Porthole Door (posted on: 06-02-04) A ponderable set of events of tomorrow.... Oh, my, the sky is falling and I have no place to hide, The sun is supernovaing The moon ran off with pride. All the stars have lost their light, The winds no more do blow, There's not much solid ground around, Just red-hot lava flows. Wormwood swooshed by, chocked many dead With toxic poisons' spew, That executioner with death Left living very few. Atop this mountain in my cave I look out on the earth And all the riches of all men No more have any worth. No trees, no flowers, no more grass, No blue skies anywhere, No clean fresh air; just hot sun's heat, I sense as I stand here. I read somewhere in Amos there Something about this time And soon I will as will this poem Be gone with all its rhymes. Still Jesus is to come they said To straighten all this out But, there's not much left here to save Where I look out about. I think that I feel woozy and I think I'll close my eyes. I don't know if I'll die or live To die as gases fly. What's this? A light so gentle, warm, Close family and friends. What is this place? I hear His voice He's calling me ag'in. A porthole thing I look out through, See stars, the universe, The sun and moon, old Mother Earth, All in fire's flames immersed. The porthole closed, I looked around, Many I saw I knew Who like me here in spirit form Were starting life anew. Oh my, the sky was falling and I had no place to hide. The sun was at it's nova high, The moon ran to her side. An angel shouted loud to God That time should be no more. A trumpet sounded in my ears Beside that porthole door. W.C.Hull © 2004 Archived comments for The Porthole Door WCHull on 2004-02-06 20:36:54 Re: The Porthole Door Hmmmmmm..............are there no ponderers out there? Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-02-09 12:04:14 Re: The Porthole Door It's okay W.C I know what you refer to. Well versed. It's getting people interested that's the problem. With what's at stake it shouldn't be too hard but, alas, such is the nature of free will and the pull of old Nic. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-15 05:41:42 Re: The Porthole Door Apathy is wiley, isn't it? Author's Reply: |
| Corporal Murphy's Laid To Rest (posted on: 02-02-04) He has become a Newfoundland and a Canadian hero, having been struck down in the prime of his life by a suicide bomber while on peacekeeping duties in Afghanistan. He was well liked by all and three members of his 3rd Battalion accompanied his remains not only back to Canada, but all the way back home to Newfoundland- the ''Rock''. His death commanded even the Prime Minister of our country to be present at his Canadian homecoming . ''Murph'' who also served a tour of peacekeeping duties in Kosovo will be laid to peaceful rest from little St. Anne's church in Conception Harbour Feb. 3, 2004. When in the area do visit and say '' Thank you Murph!'' This is my tribute to a Conception Harbour, Newfoundland and a Canadian HERO.
Corporal Murphy's Laid To Rest WCHull on 2004-02-02 16:39:17 Re: Corporal Murphy's Laid To Rest Corporal Murphy's funeral is Feb. 3rd, 2004. Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-02-05 22:35:23 Re: Corporal Murphy's Laid To Rest an emotional tribute..nice figure of speech! Author's Reply: |
| Computer Screen (posted on: 30-01-04) Oh! That computer screen and what lies beyond... Tonight - all I have is you Computer screen, Without compassion, Smileless, Hugless, My window on your world. Is my sky still blue in sunshine days And black with twinkling stars at night? Do birds still fly? I have heard Cries, laughter, Giggles, screams from your world, Companion at my touch, Listener, non-judgmental friend, With kindred vibes, never seen. Sometimes, I more than wonder If you're real When I log off alone And make my way to dreamland In my night. Louan Landree & W.C.Hull Co-Authors March 2003 Archived comments for Computer Screen WCHull on 2004-02-01 17:58:13 Re: Computer Screen Oh, the worlds and the distance loves that are on the other side of your computer screens.... Author's Reply: |
| Computer Mouse (posted on: 30-01-04) Roll on Mousey...roll on!! Others scurry, squeaking - All sizes and furs, Carrying their tail tipped curls As they hunt and play While you simply roll On my pad on your way Scrolling point arrows That slickly slide Across my windows Pointing out spots Where, with finger tip clicks Pressed left or right, You present to me the world - Everyday, every night, Different sites Or write, Create, view, enjoy - So much on my screens, For both of my eyes, That through them my soul Is full filled with awe From a long tailed little Mousey like you. No traps will I set, No cheese will I lay As across my screens You scurry and play! W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Computer Mouse Claire on 2004-02-01 14:45:40 Re: Computer Mouse From the looks of it you can write a poem about basically anything! Keyboard - mouse. What about the tower? đ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 17:50:56 Re: Computer Mouse On the way....thanks. Author's Reply: |
| Life's House Of Words (posted on: 30-01-04) Write on.... One hones a poem until its smooth Of burrs and polishes it to speak in words The thoughts one has in one's mind, Feelings from one's heart Or life's experiences. Not all will polish to the same finish Nor are times of equal length Accorded the task, But still, the effort of the amateur, As the pro, is worthy of the try, But keep them From pits of discouragement Where cliquish self declared poet pros Discourage fledging efforts with Trite condemnations Comments of no aid Maybe fearing greater than themselves Might arise from among Each year's poetic seeds. Constructive criticism is good - Condemnation destroys! Break the wing of a new born bird And it may never fly. Hold it in your hand, Show it confidence and it will learn To soar to heights beyond your mind! With new brooms Sweep old houses clean again, Open wide the windows of thought In stale rooms with lights Of co-operation where seedling And old oak poets may Write together in learning In life's house of words. W.C.Hull June 2002 Archived comments for Life's House Of Words ruadh on 2004-01-30 05:03:36 Re: Life's House Of Words Wise words. ailsa Author's Reply: silentmemories on 2004-01-30 21:47:32 Re: Life's House Of Words Yes, I also find it wise and powerfully written, favourite read at once! (I agree with you, especially when you said: "Where cliquish self declared poet pros Discourage fledging efforts with Trite condemnations – Comments of no aid – Maybe fearing greater than themselves Might arise from among Each year’s poetic seeds.") Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 04:02:11 Re: Life's House Of Words Thank you ailsa. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 04:14:15 Re: Life's House Of Words Thank you silentmemories, both for your comment and "fav read". All too often it is the discourragement that halts a writing career - not ability. Ability, as a seed, can be nurtured and grown to a fine old oak poet whereas "trite condementations" and "comments of no aid" are like bulldozers set loose in the poetic forest destroying seeding poets. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 18:00:16 Re: Life's House Of Words forgot to say.....right and write on,,,,cheers... Author's Reply: |
| To Write Or Not To Write (posted on: 23-01-04) The Pondering....... To write or not to write, That is the question! While the mind conceives new thoughts, The soul's morality runs its censures throughout them, Like a fine tooth comb through hair, Causing the conscience to ponder Whether they, in print, will be seen as right or wrong When someone else reads them. Enthusiasm claims they are ok, That there is nothing wrong with them The thought or the word That all have, do or will face their contents And discontents in their own lives someday, In some way, somewhere with someone else. Makes sense? To revise or not Could be the next question. But, no revision here! Write on! Blame the pen for wrongs in print But, do not stifle creative minds. W.C.Hull © 2004 Archived comments for To Write Or Not To Write ritawrites on 2004-01-23 05:06:09 Re: To Write Or Not To Write amen! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-24 06:12:09 Re: To Write Or Not To Write Thank you and amen ag'in! Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-01-24 11:10:58 Re: To Write Or Not To Write what a fantastic sentiment, I'm sure we can all relate!-enjoyed-bek Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-24 11:28:58 Re: To Write Or Not To Write (Right) Write on bek..Thank you! Author's Reply: Sabrina on 2004-01-24 19:10:50 Re: To Write Or Not To Write Well done! Much applause! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-24 19:29:46 Re: To Write Or Not To Write Thank you Sabrina. Don't we all at times cast aside that poem or short story because - well, it ..hmmmmm.., maybe, duh,,oh well, and in doing so probably toss away some of our best writing efforts? Author's Reply: |
| Johnny's Not At School Today (posted on: 16-01-04) A sadness.. Johnny's gone to school today. He rode the bus that goes his way. He'll learn new things and someday, why, He'll grow to manhood from a boy. Johnny passed his first exam. He found it hard; he had to cram. But, he wore smiles when he came home And told his grandma on the phone. ~~~ Johnny's late, we wonder why. The phone she answers - starts to cry. I hear the dial tone on the line Blue car, it didn't stop in time! All it takes is one mistake For someone, somewhere, for to make. The bus has left and gone its way, But, Johnny's not at school today. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Johnny's Not At School Today ritawrites on 2004-01-16 06:15:07 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today Oh, that’s sad, yes. When my son was in the third class I got a call from someone that the autorickshaw my son – who I had just waved bye to school in his autorickshaw – had had an accident. That all the kids in the rickshaw were in the hospital. That no, they didn’t know anything more. The half hour ride to the hospital was the worst half hour of my life. It turned out though he was hurt badly, his hand was smashed and needed major rectifying surgery, he was otherwise ok. The other kids too were in similar consition. We parents got together and forced the school to send the school bus to our area – which is outside the city’s precincts. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-01-16 06:17:35 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today Very well presented. Simple and to the point which made it all the more powerfull. Nice write. sunken Author's Reply: idmonster on 2004-01-17 03:29:54 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today I entirely agree with Sunken's comments. A thought provoking read. Author's Reply: richa on 2004-01-17 03:38:40 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today I like the simplicity with which such an emotional subject has been presented. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-17 18:24:41 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today Sorry to hear your sad story Rita. Many sad stories are out there everywhere. If only there weren't any. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-17 18:25:26 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today Thank you sunken, very much. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-17 18:26:34 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today And thank you also idmonster. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-18 14:30:56 Re: Johnny's Not At School Today Thank You richa. Author's Reply: |
| My Lost Dog (posted on: 12-01-04) A man's best friend... I wonder where you are tonight Just where you've gotten to In all your walking around town And who is there with you? I said stay, don't wander away You're loved much more by me, But you've found someone else it seems, No matter where you be. For you I did provide quite well, Nothing for you was spared And every time you lonely felt A hug we always shared. But, someone's lured you go with them And where, I'll never know, With promises of better things Beyond our own back door. Maybe one day you'll come back home When all the glitter's gone To once again be patted and Run free out on our lawn. Dog W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for My Lost Dog PaulS on 2004-01-18 14:45:54 Re: My Lost Dog Hi W.C, Hope it wasn't for real. Author's Reply: |
| To Stop And Smell A Rose (posted on: 12-01-04) Something we all should do.. Did you give up a smile today Or lend a helping hand, Place a buck in a beggar's cup, Sidestepped a bug that ran? Have you today said, ''How are you? -'' To strangers on this sod Or wrote a check to charities Or said, ''Hey! Thank you God?'' Have you today thought of your wife, Your girlfriend, grandma, mom, Your father, brother, son, grandpa, Or sister - these you've done? We all go on in our own ''things'', For that's how life it flows. But, everyone should take some time To stop and smell a rose. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for To Stop And Smell A Rose dancing-queen on 2004-01-12 09:33:25 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose When I saw this title I was sure I'd read it before, some time ago. But it read differently to how I remebered it - so I checked on your list and there was the one I remembered, posted in October. Thought I was imagining things for a moment. I love your poetry, can't think of any that I haven't enjoyed and you probably get tired of me telling you so, LOL. Out of these two 'Smell a Rose' poems, I think I prefer the original one only for the reason that I read it first and it obviously stayed with me all this time. DQ:) Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-01-12 13:05:18 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose WcHull for president!!! Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-01-12 13:16:06 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose there is something so gentle in the way you write -- Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-12 16:49:15 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose Thank you dancing- queen... No, I never get tired of people enjoying my poems at all and am very humbled that folks do enjoy them and find something in them to remember. Thank you kindly, W.C.Hull Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-12 16:50:42 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose Thank you rita but, gentleness in order to be recognized must have kin in emotions. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-12 16:52:57 Re: To Stop And Smell A Rose Irony, maybe, but maybe Bush, Martin, and Tony could do with a read of my "smell a rose " poems. It couldn't hurt any of them. Thanks Paul. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| Leftovers (posted on: 09-01-04) Sadness.... Why do moms and dads get drunk From whiskey, wine, rum or beer, Then argue, fight, start calling names, Throwing things, pushing, punching While I cower in my bedroom Afraid to go outside my door Cause from last time, I still am sore, When mom missed dad and I got hit With that flying mug that went astray. They say they love each other, then, When drinking starts their hate begins And they forget that I'm around. I hear mom say to dad I was Her great mistake, ran out of pills. That makes me feel so very good- I wish that I could just leave here, But I don't want to just become A welfare child that others Would take in if paid. No real love lives here any more It's eaten up with booze and fights. Oh, well! I'll wait. They'll soon grow tired and fall asleep Somewhere again, like nights before, Mom in her room, dad on the chesterfield Until morning starts again With sorries gotta stop this where's Johnny? I guess supper will be leftovers Again tonight. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Leftovers discopants on 2004-01-10 12:41:35 Re: Leftovers A heartfelt piece. The one line that didn't feel right was 'Cause from last time, I still am sore'. The style of the piece is conversational, almost conspiratorial, but that line seems a bit out of place. Well-expressed sentiments, though. Author's Reply: PaulS on 2004-01-10 13:08:04 Re: Leftovers I realy hope this is not written from personal experience. Well scribed. Author's Reply: |
| Upon The Earth-Some things to Come (posted on: 09-01-04) Tomorrows hold much in store for us all.... Upon the Earth strange changes come From warming poles to clouds of smog, Odd storms at times and flooded lands, Earthquakes, sea quakes beneath white foams. Harsh famines great and long do come, Deep snows in Southern lands will blow, Warm climes will increase summer's time In lands the Polar Bears call home. Fresh drinking water will go scarce From poisons in the inner earth, Wars over it and food will come And many in them will be killed. Two calls will sound to every ear, The Muslim and the Papal roar, Religious wars for dominance That likely will see billions die. Learned scientists all scratch their heads None of this from their test tubes came As Dolly did and hybrid corn And secret things they tamper with. Their clones go out and do their work, They hurt, they smile, they cry, they feel, But science could not give them that So very precious gift- a soul. Diseases rampant will run wild, And viruses consume the cures. They should have within energy Developed rejuvenation. Perplexed is mother earth and all Who dwell upon her outer coat, Who ne'er considered that she too Has inner feelings in her gut. The sun's degrees are rising fast As is her power to shoot waves And Earth's protection's growing weak From man's pollution in it's skies. There comes from space a clump of fire To crash into the Earth one day With gases, toxic to our life, Wormwood has been its given name. The belly of the Earth will swell As woman pregnant with her child And will burst forth in lava flows In many places on its face. And men will hide away in caves And curse the God of Heaven harsh When these His plagues do silently Begin to say '' hello'' to man! The Sun's great pull upon the Earth Will weaken in the years ahead, As well the Earth's upon her moon And Earth will as a drunkard roam. The trek of ''time'' is drawing near To where it will be home again And it will leave to fire all things That it will shut outside its door. W.C.Hull August 2002 Archived comments for Upon The Earth-Some things to Come PaulS on 2004-01-10 12:26:14 Re: Upon The Earth-Some things to Come Hi W.C.Hull. Looks like the culmination of a lot of reading. Well done. Thank Goodness then for when the new Heaven and new Earth finally arrive. The time between then is better lived with this knowledge. The papal roar.. Can you explain? Paul.S Author's Reply: |
| May Your New Year Be... (posted on: 02-01-04) Happy New Year
As a new unfolding flower shows its beauty ritawrites on 2004-01-04 22:24:20 Re: May Your New Year Be... very beautiful -- inspired a poem off me -- "For You" -- Author's Reply: |
| Your Diary & Your Billyray (posted on: 02-01-04) Trust...
You said he caused you hurt and tears Kazzmoss on 2004-03-06 14:41:38 Re: Your Diary & Your Billyray Nice little poem, get the feeling it might have been based on a real experience. Author's Reply: |
| How I Love You (posted on: 02-01-04) Love has no fences...
How many stars are in the nighttime sky ritawrites on 2004-01-04 04:32:48 Re: How I Love You gentle and beautiful -- Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-05 16:58:56 Re: How I Love You Thank you rita. Very appreciated. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| I Wish For You Sweet Wisdom (posted on: 28-12-03) Wisdom IS a special thing...
I wish for you sweet wisdom that Dorney-Printing on 2003-12-31 06:40:37 Re: I Wish For You Sweet Wisdom Dear W C Hull, You seem to understand the reality of life, and possess some of that wisdom. It is a very moving piece, succinct. Happy New Year, Rodney Author's Reply: thehaven on 2004-01-02 10:52:00 Re: I Wish For You Sweet Wisdom This a wonderful moving portrayal of love and helplessness we feel when our loved ones will not heed us. A lovely piece. Author's Reply: |
| I Think That We Should Talk (posted on: 26-12-03) Love burns inside in secret....
We have been meeting here so long WCHull on 2003-12-27 18:30:42 Re: I Think That We Should Talk Anyone out there ever felt this way, then? Author's Reply: |
| A Christmas Light Bulb Relit (posted on: 26-12-03) Miracles still do happen!
I felt the cold, cold wind upon Skeeter on 2003-12-27 02:54:23 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit Nice sentiments WCH! I like the bit about casting your smile everywhere, especially to people who have 'gone out'. Thats very nice, that is. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-27 18:28:10 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit Thank you very much. Have a cherry season. Author's Reply: uppercase on 2003-12-31 11:26:41 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit What a wonderful poem,I like it. Cast forth your joy should be taught in school in a class called.(The right way to treat others). People smile now days as if it costs them everytime they do it. Happy new year to you. uppercase Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-01-01 05:25:53 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit This is too 'loved up' for my liking but I'm sure it has its place. Nicely done for less bitter amongst us. Can I have whatever you're all on please. sunk/Rudy Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-01-01 05:40:30 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit Better not try, Sunken, it might cause your head to fall to one side (after a dose, we are all lopsided). You can try it, but take sour apricot tea as an antidote afterwards - quickly, though, because there are side effects. Your head will pop up all right, but one side will insist on waving at everyone, the other side will slap treetrunks. (Nancy lives on apricot tea, her sister told me - so I rushed out and bought some. Now I'm sweet and sour and read all over.) Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-01-01 05:48:55 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit Have you really spoken to Nancy's sister? I hope you've said nice things about me? I didn't know Nancy's sister used uka or any other poetry site come to that. Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-01-01 05:58:01 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit No, Freda gave me her phone number and I called up the USA because I wanted to be read all over. I never mentioned you, I just asked how to get famous like Nancy. Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-01-01 05:59:59 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit No, Freda gave me her phone number and I called up the USA because I wanted to be read all over. I never mentioned you, I just asked how to get famous like Nancy. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-01-01 06:01:25 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit God, i'm confused. ok. thanks. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-01-01 18:49:27 Re: A Christmas Light Bulb Relit Thanks lots for your comments....and side chat...cheers..... Author's Reply: |
| Was There A Tavern Along The Way? (posted on: 26-12-03) Naaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww.....but I wonder...
My grandfather always liked his beer WCHull on 2003-12-27 18:29:40 Re: Was There A Tavern Along The Way? A wee side trip with mini story....... Author's Reply: |
| A Soldier's Christmas Wish-From Iraq (posted on: 26-12-03) Self explanatory....
Where is my gift I wanted so, WCHull on 2005-01-06 21:37:54 Re: A Soldier's Christmas Wish-From Iraq Amazing! 315 reads and not one comment one way or another.... silence says it all. Author's Reply: |
| The Best Gift Of All (posted on: 19-12-03) No cost for smiles...
As winter winds howl WCHull on 2003-12-20 21:06:34 Re: The Best Gift Of All And what is the cost of a smile..? Author's Reply: Pilgermann on 2004-10-05 16:19:13 Re: The Best Gift Of All Sentiments however well intentioned are lost in the awkward flow of the poem. I would suggest that you do not try to get the rhymes, rather free your verse. Now I may have this all wrong; maybe you are trying to sound askewed and stiff, just like the real unsmiling people out there. Author's Reply: |
| The Foot-Hopper (posted on: 19-12-03) Goodness comes in many forms...
While shopping in a mall one day ritawrites on 2003-12-19 14:24:02 Re: The Foot-Hopper stupendous. But, I always need my crutches. At least just to see them in a corner. I would be lost without them -- Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-21 08:08:05 Re: The Foot-Hopper Thank you! Author's Reply: uppercase on 2003-12-23 10:35:45 Re: The Foot-Hopper just reading thru I love this poem I do believe in faith healing because I've seen it happen and it's happened to me. God Bless You Rita. uppercase Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-23 16:57:14 Re: The Foot-Hopper Thank you very much, Rita. I do appreciate that. Have a good poetic Christmas and do visit my poetic web site at www.poetrypoem.com/wchullpoetry and enjoy many such as "A Soldier's Christmas Wish" from Iraq, etc. Author's Reply: |
| Above A Stable (posted on: 19-12-03) Remember?
I saw twinkling stars shoot sparkles, jojo on 2003-12-20 17:48:01 Re: Above A Stable Hi ..I like this very gentle,hopeful.I had a bit of trouble with the 'two thousand and three' đ but reread and understood.I would like to see the title 'remember' in the last line instead of 'write',think it would tie it up..but thats just me đ a lovely verse for me to retire on..thankyou Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-20 21:04:34 Re: Above A Stable Remember is what everyone can do....write is what someone would do. Lots were there .... I wrote about it..! God bless you! You noticed! Author's Reply: |
| She Was The Only One (posted on: 15-12-03) Do you remember that special first one from school? She was the only one who looked at me And smiled in our whole school assembly Here to say goodbye to teacher grouch Who was moving somewhere South of here, Where, who'd really care? The crab would never let me say my peace, Always made me wrong to make that he was right And made me feel like some duh from dark of night. Anyway, she smiled at me and smiling back Caused a bioheater in me spark and warmer grow As I was thinking things I know My friends had talked about but I had Never done as I loosened the top button on my shirt. I wanted to go over and sit with her through this thing But I could see no vacant seats around to bring, Me closer to that smile she sent to me And it seemed that this moment Was meant to be shut out Without a doubt. So, I just smiled back knowing that Later I would find someone who knew her and I'd get her phone number from them, Call her and that would put me into her mind, Her thoughts, deep into her heart and in time I did and we did and we made Stars explode in the lovers' heavens. School days, school ways, Great days forever gone. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for She Was The Only One bluepootle on 2003-12-15 07:01:07 Re: She Was The Only One Hi, As far as I can remember from your other poems posted here, this is a departure for you? And I liked it; it flowed and felt quite warm, particularly with what I took to be the not quite happy ending. Author's Reply: KDR on 2003-12-15 08:35:02 Re: She Was The Only One Oh yeah. I certainly remember that 'first one'. In fact, we're still friends - much to the gf's displeasure! I'm not usually one for poems, but this one did remind me of those times. Great days, indeed. Thanks for the read! Author's Reply: spacegirl on 2003-12-15 14:57:52 Re: She Was The Only One It is definitely a departure, but I really enjoyed this. Memories of the one I thought was wonderful when I was at school. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-18 18:15:19 Re: She Was The Only One Indeed a departure - and somewhat experimental -a sort of story poem where I try to allow the experience of an easy flowing read. Do read my new posting "The Foot-Hopper" which will be even more a departure from the norm for me. But, it's interesting and I do enjoy it. Have a little fun reading them and do enjoy them also. Cheers and a good holiday to all. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-20 21:10:03 Re: She Was The Only One Poetically speaking..is it more enjoyable to read in conformatiom to the bra or the braless?? .... The captive or the freedom? Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-25 13:58:14 Re: She Was The Only One Still, every boy who has ever attented school has a school sweetheart tucked away in his memories, if he has not married her. Author's Reply: |
| You Are My Christmas Gift (posted on: 12-12-03) Special gifts of love,,, Oh, the feelings you give me When you come around to be With me in each special night, Holding hands, hugging tight And Christmas makes it special Like the sounds of Christmas bells, Like each Christmas carol sung, Pretty decorations hung. Yes, you are my Christmas joy, The colored lights in my eyes, You are my ''Old Christmas Card'' My sweet words, poetic bard. Oh, the feelings you give me, Always underneath my tree, You're the only gift I know That will set my heart aglow. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for You Are My Christmas Gift Macjoyce on 30-04-2008 You Are My Christmas Gift Does 'special' rhyme with 'bells' nowadays? Or 'joy' with 'eyes'? Start again. Author's Reply: |
| Lost Tribes & Sabbath Days (posted on: 12-12-03) And do YOU know who the watchers are...? The setting of the sun has brought another Sabbath day For those who do observe such times, as Jews, Those who by God's commandment laws and common sense are swayed, Who see it as a righteous thing to do. The Israelites of olden times discarded keeping it, Were banished to the world and lost herein And to this day and time they know not who they really are. To God it was a very dreadful sin. The Jews bowed down to Roman men who killed God's precious son- Still, they kept the Sabbath day without fail. That's why the Jews with us are mostly ''Israel'' today And people in Jerusalem still wail. The country Israel today set in the Middle East Is not the ten lost tribes of long ago, But mostly are of Judah and Levites, the priestly priests, Watched over by some Israelites we know. The setting of the sun has brought another Sabbath day, The fourth commandment will not disappear. Israel again one day will be gathered to it's home, Be with the Jews and Levites, happy there. W.C.Hull© 2003 Archived comments for Lost Tribes & Sabbath Days SealHerder on 2003-12-12 08:47:16 Re: Lost Tribes & Sabbath Days Considering the posts that are going on the general forum about Israel at the moment, I think this is a very interesting way of, reflecting the history of the region but also putting a religious slant on the history that most people wonât be aware of, and really just wrapping the issue and the hope for the future of a nation up all in one piece. To do that in 197 words is remarkable, and to do it with a prose feel and style is exceptional! I like the balance of this piece, I like the rhythm of the paragraphs! I like this piece very much! Bob Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-12-13 17:14:13 Re: Lost Tribes & Sabbath Days Sorry, but I have not been to the forums. If this piece and the forums meet at this point in time, it is purely coincidental, from my viewpoint. However, I do thank you Bob, for your read, review and your very kind comments. Within the text of my piece I do point out, however, that the country Israel in the middle east today is not the Israel, the nation of the lost ten tribes referred to throughout the bible and that those lost tribes are decernable today to those who know how and where to look for them. They still today look out for their kin, the tribles of Juda and Levi, which make up the most of the blood lines of the nation referred to as "Israel" sitting in the middle east today. Your knowledge runs deeper than your words. Again --thank you and cheers. Do visit my poetry site sometime at www.poetrypoem.com/wchullpoetry and enjoy the reads. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: |
| The Night After Christmas (posted on: 08-12-03) Too much cheer......home brewed.....oh dear!! Twas the night after Xmas here at our house, Everyone was stuffed full of turkey, the mouse Had put on from Xmas food scraps, nearly five pounds And looked like a rat to the cat on her rounds. My home brew had taken a big Xmas hit, More relatives and friends than I'd ever met. Each one I am damn sure brought their buddy along To gulp down me home brew and sing Xmas songs. Old Santa, the bugger, was here and had gone Never left me the skidoo, I'd wanted so long. But, he left me a tie with his picture on it And a new pair of socks and that's about it! That new pair of gloves that I'd brought for the wife, She re-wrapped and gave to the best friend of her life. And the long winter boots with the pink pull up zips Didn't bring me a thank you from her Xmas lips. The kids had grown tired of the things that they got They'd given once-overs and promptly forgot. The wife grabbed the flipper, the soaps had come on As I lazed in me armchair with nine home brews gone. The cat looked bewildered to see mousy drunk From nipping me home brew in behind the old trunk Especially when up on his hind legs he stood And shouted, ''Come get me, you pussy, you prude!'' Well, the cat on all fours lay down on the floor And laughed herself silly at the mouse by the door. Then to top it all off they started to sing Meowing and squeaking and other weird things. Oh boy, what a Christmassy song they churned up To the point where I thought the wife they'd disrupt. When all of a sudden I awoke with a thump Having slid from my chair to the floor on my rump!! W.C.Hull © 2002 Archived comments for The Night After Christmas WCHull on 2003-12-14 07:11:19 Re: The Night After Christmas Humor or humour seems to be lacking out there...not close enough to Christmas I allow. Have a good one. Cheers. Author's Reply: Kazzmoss on 2004-03-06 14:47:25 Re: The Night After Christmas Have just come across this. Brilliant! I loved it. I've never really done poetry and I lot that I read sort of sounds nice but I never really understand it. I understood this and it had me chuckling. I just wonder whether you would let me use it next Christmas in a tape we do for the blind in the area. Can't give you any money, but if it is used, I can credit it to you. What do you think? Author's Reply: |
| Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down (posted on: 28-11-03) Enjoy a snowfall.... Silent snowflakes flutter down Upon the walkways, on the grounds, On fallen leaves, trees so bare, It's Christmassy this time of year. Season's carols sing out loud, Enticing all the shopping crowd, AM, FM radios All fill the air through falling snow. Pretty lights set all aglow Light up the nighttime Oh! Oh! Oh! Flashing colors, pretty scenes, It's Christmas time of year and dreams Display toys in small tots heads, Make parents hurry, scurry led To satisfy everyone Before the season's shopping's done. Now that gifts have all been wrapped, Our energies, accounts been zapped, Let's just walk outside around, Watch snowflakes softly flutter down. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down WCHull on 2003-11-29 04:42:58 Re: Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down Hasn't anyone yet gotten that feeling of snow falls at Christmas time...? Author's Reply: Claire on 2004-02-01 11:56:42 Re: Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down I love snow, anytime of the year. I don't read much poetry, this I liked! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 14:36:40 Re: Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down Thank you Claire. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-02-01 16:09:35 Re: Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down How can anyone like snow? It causes nothing but misery. Did I hear someone say humbug? I better not have done đ Nice poem. But lets just be thankful that god awful time of year is over hey? I really hate Xmas. Love, s u n k e n Author's Reply: WCHull on 2004-02-01 17:56:35 Re: Christmas Snowflakes Flutter Down Glad you liked the poem...if not the snow. I don't much like it nor xmas either. Author's Reply: |
| My Mother Dear (posted on: 21-11-03) It says it all.... Mother dear, your eyes grow weak With pains of ailing age As with heaven you get closer. From this world of woe You are fading fast And never more shall glimpse The rising and the falling of The heaven's sun, Nor hear the chirping Of the early morning birds Who have, with you, greeted each new day You've seen upon this earth. As the moment of death over takes you, Should I but sit and grieve Till you have gone, In tears and heartaches and cast The world from my knowing? I fear that I cannot For though I am happy beyond words That you have lived, I am happier that you are so Close to Him, whom I have long sought, And always will. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for My Mother Dear silentmemories on 2003-11-21 03:10:57 Re: My Mother Dear Perfect flow, a nobly written poem, thanks for sharing - - - Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-11-21 03:25:11 Re: My Mother Dear Thank you kindly. I'm happy you enjoyed it. My pleasure. Cheers. Author's Reply: |
| If I Could Dance With You (posted on: 17-11-03) If only... If I could dance with you I'd hold you, oh, so close to me, I'd think that I was holding clouds So tender, soft and white - you'd be My angel in my arms each dance That you would dance with me. If I could dance with you, I'd gaze so deeply in your eyes, I'd hold your hand so tightly that You'd never get away, your sighs Would be the only things I'd hear As we danced in the skies. If I could dance with you, I'd never dance with anyone Again but you and only you. You'd be the one, the only one I'd dance with for the rest of life Till all my days be done. W.C.Hull © 2002 Archived comments for If I Could Dance With You No comments archives found! |
| Dark Is The Day (posted on: 17-11-03) Just one of those days... Dark is the day I look upon Outside my window through Foggy gray clouds and falling rain, No sunshine shining through. It threatened rain or snow or both Depending on degrees And where the winds would blow in from To mother nature please. Drab is the day I look out on Out in my garden fair. I think I'll stay inside today And I'll not go out there. W.C.Hull© 2002 Archived comments for Dark Is The Day WCHull on 2003-11-17 05:01:39 Re: Dark Is The Day Does anyone else out there relate to such a day??? Author's Reply: Claire on 2004-02-01 14:35:46 Re: Dark Is The Day Your little poems are slowly starting to grab me. Strange thing is I don't read much poetry! Author's Reply: Pilgermann on 2004-07-20 16:47:45 Re: Dark Is The Day This is an endearing poem. Took me a couple of reads to get past the rhymes and at the message. But it's grabbed my attention. Wasn't too sure about the use of 'through' so close together. Author's Reply: |
| Earth..it wasn't there! (posted on: 10-11-03) Opps...whatever would one do without the old ways? Not one of my seven viewer screens showed it as being there, although it had been for billions of years. We know that, not because someone lived and counted them all but, because scientists have told us so. How they found out the exact age is for another day and another short story. But, it wasn't there! I checked and quickly re-checked all power sources and TBCBS, ( transmission beamed computer bar switches). My computer confirmed it should be there. It was telling me it was there, but it wasn't on any of my screens. It was there an hour ago. Jav and I had been viewing and admiring Earth from here on Polaris Venture, Earth's two hundred and sixty third deep space vacation station. We were en route to Saturn on a three month vacation excursion to view the planet, make landings and allow our guests to laserphoto to their heart's delight. This was quite a costly holiday package, ten million dollars per person and we carried one million vacationers. Earth had looked like a cool gem set in deep black space, illuminated by its huge, glowing, pulsating, yellow sun our sun. The sun was still there. What would I say when Jav returned in minutes from his rest period? How could this be explained? What did I do wrong? There had been no announcement of any nature, emergency or otherwise on sub space energy level 23765 transmissions and all seven of my viewer screens, which had their impulse feed signals fed into my computer through my telescope receptor beam on energy level 56543 were, according to my computer check runs, all operating flawlessly. Still, I had lost Earth. I could not believe it. I had lost Earth!!! Jav returned and walked over to my chair. He saw, no doubt, the consternation in my facial expressions, patted my shoulder as I was about to explain with my mouth starting to open, leaned over my computer console and with his index finger quickly pressed the K910 bar off and back on. Earth re-appeared on all my seven computer screens. ''Happens all the time, '' Jav smiled with an experienced grin. ''That K910 bar, once in a while, turns itself off. Must be an inside loose connection, I guess.'' ''Isn't earth pretty?'' W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Earth..it wasn't there! SmirkingDervish on 2003-11-25 04:12:16 Re: Earth..it wasn't there! Reminds me of a problem I had with a printer once. đ Author's Reply: |
| Ponderings Of My Soul (posted on: 10-11-03) Oh, the mysteries of all things! But, I am alive to ponder them all. Ponderings Of My Soul I sometimes ponder, in my soul, Why I don't yet understand All things there are to comprehend and do. I stop and I regroup my thoughts From there or there, over there, Close by, within, without, wherever And begin again to try to comprehend All things I am aware of. From ''get go'' when creation was but a thought In the mind of God, how were all things formed And where, before they were placed in this realm Called materialism this physical? Are angels powerful energy life forms? Is the sun a material manifestation Of a ''power house'' of an angel? Is each star a powerful energy angel? Is Light? Is gravity? Is Heat? Is cold? How is it all done? Without energy nothing is! WHOW! We are all individual intellectual energies, Having our very own energy signatures, Different from all other human beings, all other Created things, one small piece of all creation Lost by size in its vastness, yet, unique in our own Individuality and to the creator Himself. We are all an individual energy in a physical body, I AM HERE! I see! I feel! I touch! I love! I hate! I make love to you, your body, Your very being, your energy, Dual energies agreeing in harmonious vibes, Not opposing each other, Creating new energies To grow, travel all the paths we have, Be as amazed as we are With all there is. That is good! That is life! I ponder on. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Ponderings Of My Soul No comments archives found! |
| Do Not Wish For Death (posted on: 07-11-03) To all lead astray... Do not wish for death! It is no port of relief Nor halfway house for you to rest in, Find yourself or be refreshed. Your escape from there, From torment, torture, in the life You lived is not here. Here you'll not find desired escape, Only an answering to the spirit Who lords over it, Who claims your soul, Assimilating your very energy Into its own for that final battle Of good and evil In the valley of dry bones. Death is your state of realizing You can never correct Any thing done upon this earth, And no matter what or who Pushed you through its door, Something else could have been done- Another way here you see it clearly- Not as there in confusionism. Look around! There is no freedom To redo, undo, only continual paying For what you have done. Life comes with an honor, To live it to its end, no matter what, No matter injustices, tortures, Sicknesses, illnesses, disabilities, Until it is ended naturally, for you, Not ended by you. In your ending it there is no honor, Just the condemnation Of your deed and your irreversible visit To this realm of death. As Jesus pointed out, There is a vast gulf between there and here And no path back to there exists Once you have come here. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Do Not Wish For Death dancing-queen on 2003-11-07 05:28:42 Re: Do Not Wish For Death Brilliant work again! I think the Samaritans could possibly make use of this in helping suicidal people see reason. Can I point out one minor flaw - 'a honour' - shouldn't it be 'an honour' ? Thanks - DQ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-11-08 17:18:00 Re: Do Not Wish For Death Thank you dancing-queen very much and yes- those typos do alway get me. You are correct on an honour or honor. Author's Reply: |
| Youthful Wings (posted on: 03-11-03) Has anyone yet figured out how the love of a young lady an make a young man feel he can climb Mount Everest in one hour flat? Youthful wings on my new thoughts Rise and flap, trying to lift off Into creation of an imaginary, That as a potter would, I can mold Into a stream of thoughts of you, Create as an artist would, A canvas of this beauty that is you, Before me standing there That Monet would scarce attempt. A diamond's perfect facets cut Could not display a brilliance in sunlight Such as you, set in gleaming hand crafted Golds, silvers and varied hues of nature's frames. Your life energy sparkles far out glitter Even a diamond's own, Out beautifies the silver of any full moon And the wonderment of a million fresh rainbows. Ah! As strawberries dipped in cool ice cream, Or floating in a purity of fresh, warm milk, I long to know you, Entwine your pulsating energies with mine And us two become as one At least for tonight. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for Youthful Wings WCHull on 2003-11-06 21:23:22 Re: Youthful Wings How much does one really love one's love one? Author's Reply: Pilgermann on 2004-07-21 17:03:33 Re: Youthful Wings As much as one loves one's self. You have a skilful voice. Author's Reply: |
| Dogberry Wine (posted on: 20-10-03) It is so..that we should do unto others as we would have them do unto us.
Dogberry Wine Dorney-Printing on 2003-10-20 19:23:00 Re: Dogberry Wine Melodic, metred, and flows. Try to improve the metre, nevertheless, a good attempt. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-11-08 17:24:16 Re: Dogberry Wine Thank you. Meters are in the perceptive reading. Author's Reply: |
| Blue Ribbon & Roadside Flowers (posted on: 17-10-03) God loves all kinds of flowers, whether blue ribbon winners or roadside displays. Blue Ribbon And Roadside Flowers The garden club each year plants seeds Which into flowers grow so sweet, All sizes, colors, beautiful, Some at flower shows compete. Around the town they work so hard To make displays of pedals fair, Blue ribbon flowers without doubt Becomes the goals of members' flairs. But, roadside flowers, free and wild Besides the ditches never see Those tender hands of club members, Yet, they're as pretty as can be. They wait on rains, no water cans, Await the sun, no man made light, Soils feed them as do insects, bees And God loves them with all his might As He does all the rich and poor Who live upon this mother earth. Those flowers with the blue ribbons And roadside flowers both have worth. W.C.Hull© 2003 Archived comments for Blue Ribbon & Roadside Flowers No comments archives found! |
| You Asked Why (posted on: 17-10-03) It says it all... You asked why I was thinking There was a silence I watched a shooting star Heard a car horn honk Or was it beep? Maybe ''by the dashboard light''? The night was hot with a coolness That a summer night should never have. I thought about what I should answer to you, What I thought you wanted to hear, What was right. Looking into your eyes I knew that No matter what I said, To you I'd be wrong. Yet, I wanted to please you, So, I simply said . Yes dear ! W.C. Hull Archived comments for You Asked Why shadow on 2003-10-20 11:35:37 Re: You Asked Why Something very recognisable about this - nice one! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-11-08 17:25:40 Re: You Asked Why Thank you moya. Author's Reply: |
| The Early Morning Fisherboy (posted on: 17-10-03) Just a little scene at the wharf... I saw him stroll to the edge of the wharf And while setting up his fishing gear Look hopefully over the planks Down into gray water Draped in early morning fog. Set, he sat, feet hanging over the edge And cast his line into the deep, An experienced angler, Not more than ten years old. I watched him there an hour long As he tossed flounders caught Into his plastic salt beef pail Until the sun arose chasing fog away, Whereupon, he took his fishing pole and left, To return again someday- I assumed, As a fishing boat left port. W.C.Hull 2003 rev. #1 Archived comments for The Early Morning Fisherboy e-griff on 2003-10-17 12:14:39 Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy I am not sure if you will welcome this. But this is a site very much focused on comments. As you have posted many works, I feel I wish to comment, so I will make them here, once. I know from past comments that you feel strongly that you wish to write in a certain way, and maybe you don't welcome too much contradiction of your set path. Nevertheless.... this is meant kindly and to be helpful. I read your work often. I see some merit in it, you have a feel for words, you have some nice phrases... BUT, let's take this poem as an example. - the first five lines were fine, evocative, setting the scene admirably. then we had 'Set he sat' - what? Did you mean 'Set, he sat' as in 'All set, he sat' ? I don't know. Maybe it made sense to others- but not to me. Maybe it's an author's indulgence and therefore a no-no if you want to respect your audience. Then we get 'o'er' -- dear , dear. As many people on this site have informed me, archaic poetry habits are not welcome today. And then..... I watched him there an hour long As fish he caught tossing them up what? ----- marginally excusable, but then followed by the absolutely dreadful (I make no excuse) Onto the wharf where they squirmed like hell Until no more life in them did dwell. 'squirmed like hell' is rough, the next line is a crime - an inelegant, reversed-grammar line jammed into the poem to justify a rhyme. Surely you can do better? (you can, I've seen you do it) then why? Some kind of aping of past style that you find pleasing? (read one Ebeneezer Cooke, Poet Laureate of MARYLAND) The reason I say this is not to attack you, or 'have a go' . I think you can write good poetry, but while you place archaic, contorted lines in to almost every poem you write, you will not please the reader, in my opinion. Never mind me.... what do others think? Perhaps a debate might help? I'd like to see you cure these ills , and unveil this poem as what it could be, what you meant it to be, not what it is now. And I would not even bother to comment if I did not think there was something here worth digging for. Author's Reply: Romany on 2003-10-18 10:26:42 Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy I was going to comment that in places you seem to have twisted words to force a rhyme, but I see that griff has already done so, and with far better explanation than I could have given you. Whilst I agree that there is some merit in this, I'm afraid that I also agree with griff's comments. Lastly, I don't really think you need the question mark after 'Not more than ten years old,' as it's an observation on your part rather than an actual question. Kind regards, Romany Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-18 20:03:35 Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy critiqued by egriff Oct. 17, 2003 17:14:39 GMT and Romany on Oct. 18, 2003 15:26:42 GMT. Please, never assume anything in the poetic arena. I welcome any critique of what I write that will be helpful and while I do feel strongly about the way in which I write, my written words and formatting of those words, the phrases that I use, can always be changed to achieve an improved poetic product. Do remember, however, that I not only write from a Newfoundland, Canadian and American world of conceptualism, but also I âthinkâ in those daily living formats. Thus, while a phrase may not be acceptable in your âBritish Englishâ it may be acceptable in some other linguistic variations. Still, I am willing to be taught as well as write and am honored (honoured) that you would, as well as others, take the time to critique what I write. Critique on, please. While Webster classes the word âcritiqueâ as a noun, it is being used also as a verb in some circles. As to âThe Early Morning Fishermanâ I respond as follows: Agreed, it should be as noted⊠âSet, he satâŠ. A typo can drain even the best of quillsâŠ..no comma in the submitted version, although in the original. I, agree that a little extra time could have been well spent. âOâerâŠâ While Webster does claim it to be archaic, I still use it in some poems where I wish to express âoverâ but, not with two syllables. It has the one syllable and has a soft sound in most cases. In retrospect I could have used "over" without any beat interference in that line at all. Good point. The question mark after the âNot more than ten years oldâ as noted by Romany is indeed, not necessary. Another case of time not well spent. Sorry. The scene was at a wharf where I watched the young lad sitting on the edge of the wharfâs planks casting his line and baited hook out into the waters below his perch. I sat in my car, as I do often at the wharf watching, for hours, the activities that are always occurring there. His being there, fishing, was one of those activities and I watched him, off and on, as I did other âat the wharfâ activities for the best part of an hour. Thus: I watched him there an hour long The rest is revisable â As he tossed flounders caught Into his plastic salt beef pail Until the sun arose chasing fog away, Whereupon, he took his fishing pole and left, To return again someday- I assumed, As a fishing boat left port. Might the following, then, be an improved version? The Early Morning Fisherboy I saw him stroll to the edge of the wharf And while setting up his gear Look hopefully over the planks Down into gray water Draped in early morning fog. Set, he sat, feet hanging over the edge And cast his line into the deep, An experienced angler, Not more than ten years old. I watched him there a hour long As he tossed flounders caught Into his plastic salt beef pail Until the sun arose chasing fog away, Whereupon, he took his fishing pole and left, To return again some day- I assumed, As a fishing boat left port. W.C.Hull © 2003 Rev.#1 The poemâs ending does leave one hanging. However, it is but one scene in the continuation of all the events that make up a day and those that create a lifetime of experiences. Please continue to comment. I love to write and I am certainly not above learning. I appreciate all who take the time to do so. Thank you and âŠcheers. W.C.Hull Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-18 20:33:40 Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy Where it says "The Early Morning Fisherman" it should read " The Early Morning Fisherboy". Fisherman was the word used in the origional poem, subsquently changed to Fisherboy. Thanks. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-10-22 09:34:20 Re: The Early Morning Fisherboy OK, good. I'm always a bit nervous as being honest with someone I don't really know on the site some people can be touchy đ PS: I do read all kinds of language, North American included, so no, it wasn't that. I've even written some of my stories in 'American' so no, I'm not being a 'true brit' on this one.... Author's Reply: |
| The Cedrons Of Our Lives (posted on: 13-10-03) As Jesus faced his foes and traitors in the garden, so too we all must ours when we cross over the Cedrons of our lives. The Cedrons Of Our Lives The Cedrons over which we cross await Our entering the gardens of our lives And who there among our family, Friends and neighbors will condemn us And our lives for gain, betray us to society Which waits to taste our blood, Bash our brittle bones And accurse us to our tree of ridicule? Oft times a refuge was this place, This garden of friendship's company, A home for all who followed me To teach, to learn and converse in. I too, to the wood would go quite willingly Should those my friends go free To ponder all that they've come to And wonder at tomorrow. And will you not deny me thrice As you did Him back then That you may gain a pittance now Until He comes again in powers that You'll wish you'd never seem As the Cedrons of our lives We cross with Him? W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for The Cedrons Of Our Lives Macjoyce on 21-03-2008 The Cedrons Of Our Lives I understand it all apart from 'cedrons'. Author's Reply: |
| My Father Of The Sea (posted on: 10-10-03) One I like very much. Enjoy. Long days have I just sat and thought And wondered where you are, For last I heard your ship was on Some sea, so distant, far. Ah yes, father, where are you now When darkness covers all, When winter's winds blow howling cold With scary, death like, calls. And days so long has mother wept, Dark nights so long has prayed, Her look is that of worrying, Her heart is one dismayed For though her faith is great of strength And she's at God's command, Her mind creates the unknown worlds Filled with their pillage bands. Have you made port somewhere at sea With shelter from these storms And have you food and water fresh And fires to keep you warm? Are you tossed upon storm waves With gales like swords from hell Or is your fine ship plowing through Some sunset breaking swell? Are you perhaps tossed on a shore Awaiting passersby Or are you safe despite my thoughts With spirits flying high? Ah yes, father, where are you now? May God speed word of you, For thoughts of fear play on my mind And strangest things they do. I see you sailing on some ship That picked you from the seas, That will go straight to heaven's gates, Take you away from me. Or then, I see your lifeless corpse Dragged over breaker rocks Where great strong seas break merciless With foams like old hair locks. Ah yes! I cannot help but think Of where you could be at, For in my mind thoughts stumble on Like some blind flying bat. Oh, come back home or send us word Fast on the winds so free, For we are fearing for your life My father of the sea. W.C.Hull © 2003 Archived comments for My Father Of The Sea dancing-queen on 2003-10-10 04:08:57 Re: My Father Of The Sea Excellent! Very touching. Lovely rhythm to it. '..gales like swords from hell' '...foams like old hair locks' You certainly have a way with words. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-10 10:16:48 Re: My Father Of The Sea Thank you dancing-queen, very much. I appreciate the comments and all. Author's Reply: |
| Stop And Smell A Rose (posted on: 06-10-03) We all should do this...kids and adults...we all need to... Stop and smell the roses, That's how the saying goes. Take the time to linger and There, cast aside your woes. Close your eyes and inhale Their fragrances, their scent. Fade your tasks out of your mind, And care not where they went. No matter where you roam Or how your life it goes, Always take the time to stop Somewhere and smell a rose. W.C.Hull © 2000 Archived comments for Stop And Smell A Rose dancing-queen on 2003-10-06 09:43:23 Re: Stop And Smell A Rose Oh, I do, I do (smell roses, that is). I can't resist if I'm passing a garden with roses hanging over the fence - reminds me of my childhood (rose bushes in the back garden). But, have you noticed that not all roses smell nice? Garden roses do, but there are some bought at the roadside or garages that remain closed, don't smell and die within a day or two. Shame. Sorry...I'm rambling. Loved it! Had a kind of hazy, summer feel to it. DQ Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-07 22:04:10 Re: Stop And Smell A Rose Thank you very much. Indeed you are correct but even a rose over a fence can turn our attention away from our daily toils. We all should stop and take ten once in a while. Cheers. Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-11 20:12:56 Re: Stop And Smell A Rose Hmmmmmmmm...... don't we all need the frangrance of a rose to scent through our daily lives once in a while.... a change is sometimes as good as a rest....so the say... Author's Reply: |
| Mystery Lady In Your Cage (posted on: 03-10-03) But, is not the mystery the intriging allurement of every woman worthy of desire? Quantum spiritual energy vibes Have never been so intensely pulsating, Pounding in rhythms with the beating Of Cupid's arrow's destination. Damn ! Who are you and why are you? What unleashed arrays of beauty, Pleasures, touch and tears, smiles And laughter do you harbor in that Inner mystery self that's you? I must explore you, chain your soul, Capture your very essence for my own, Entwining loves' own feelings Of us two forged into one. I crave to savor you! Resist not long, but crumble At the feet of my desire for you- That quickly you'll be mine And I your keys will hold In time forever, Mystery lady in your cage. W.C.Hull © 2002 Archived comments for Mystery Lady In Your Cage No comments archives found! |
| The Poem That Never Was (posted on: 03-10-03) Who gained his attention and stopped a poem from being written, his wife , his girlfriend or his cat? A host of thoughts curled up in his mind As his cat would in his arms, purring, Desiring to be stroked into a poem They were enticing him to write, though He realized not their sub-conscious Temptations to put pen to paper And portray them all in Lexical strokes of poetic art. Each thought sprang forth Like a well groomed model Strolling her breed and gait Down the catwalk of his mind, Preparing to be awarded with words Of poetry they were tempting him to Immortalize forever in The poem that never was. He arose from his chair, Put pen and notebook Into his jeans - back pocket- And walked off towards her call. W.C.Hull © 2001 Archived comments for The Poem That Never Was dancing-queen on 2003-10-03 11:30:21 Re: The Poem That Never Was Definitely the cat! Wives - they can be ignored. Girlfriends, too. But, cats? No way. Their eternal, pitiful miaowing is enough to send a bronze statue insane. I have one (a cat, not statue!) so I know how distracting they can be until they get their way (mine usually throws himself against the wardrobe door or scratches the furniture to shreds if I try to ignore his cries!) Great idea and loved the poem! Author's Reply: WCHull on 2003-10-03 14:19:01 Re: The Poem That Never Was Thank yoy very much dancing- queen. Author's Reply: JJJoyce on 2004-09-27 15:49:15 Re: The Poem That Never Was I had some difficulty with the flow of the poem from lines 4 to 9. The sense does not come through. Maybe this is deliberate, the author too distracted by what is outside? Author's Reply: |
| Thanks Sam (posted on: 03-10-03) Samantha was a young teenage girl who was murdered. I never knew her but this is my tribute to her. I never knew you, Yet, you were a friend, a companion In this journey we call life. My days have been many, yours few. I never saw you smile, yet it was a Beautiful creation, molded by the Creator's hand, formed in joy, Given freely. We never compared dreams, yet yours Were granted - you have now been given New ones while I struggle still to attain Mine before I leave also. Raindrops fell in my eyes, Clouds rolled and thunders rumbled Through my mind. Yet, I live in a land of sunshine and Blue skies. Winter's freezing rain ordered trees to bow And bid farewell beneath saddened hopes. I never knew you. I didn't have to. Being part of life itself, I see your Brightness never dims. Thanks Sam. W.C.Hull © Feb, 2000 Archived comments for Thanks Sam CleanMan on 15-01-2006 Thanks Sam Nice work; you have used the tribute to good purpose here, giving us some thought-provoking lines and interesting images. Author's Reply: |