Recent Reviews for Mor o' Inchrory
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/27/2015 8:09:25 AM|
Without going to the dictionary every couple of lines, it is difficult for me to discern the full meaning of your poem, regardless of version. Methinks that if I was a poetry critic, I would discern all of these words and then come to some brilliant conclusion as to the worth of the poem.
Unfortunately, time and energy spent elsewhere makes me allow others to either praise or deny praise for what you have written. If my inclination is right, then you did not communicate to the masses (and include me there among the poetry of uneducated). However, among poetry aficionados, your poem may be superb.
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/26/2015 1:10:02 PM
Every time I think I'm gaining a little class and skill with language, Mor comes along and knocks me for a loop and sets me back into the Dark Ages. I thought Dolche Cabbana was a nice spot on the Italian Riviera, not ladies' toiletries. That's how lost I am. But I sure enjoy the trip along your highways and byways.
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/25/2015 8:10:20 AM
I will simply echo what Richard has stated below; certainly, your poem is worthy of much more than a single reading. Thank you for sharing. Love and peace to you,
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/24/2015 5:35:33 PM
very beautiful writing indeed...Hugss...
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/24/2015 11:16:08 AM
Thank you for your observations. It was never my intention to make easy for the reader.
This was drawn from a real live scenario I observed in an up market bar in Madrid, I merely changed from narrator to active participant in the proceedings.
I imagine that you were spot on with fifty quid, or more than likely it was a thousand pesetas.
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/24/2015 10:06:31 AM
Though a poem can have a certain impact on the reader the poet cannot expect the reading audience to understand all the nuances. Can poetry like 'BACCARA'S BLACK ROSE ever be fully realized by the poet or the reader? Douglas Dunn posits: 'A poets cultural baggage and erudition can interfere with a poem'... What do you think about that? Because I've learned personally that it was true of (some) of my own work years ago. It was a revelation that changed me. You march to a different 'poetic-drummer' than the majority of the hoi polloi my friend. Always intrigued with, and appreciate, your work. I've read a lot of Scottish poetry over the years, and a few of its authors, and I find your voice unlike any other. In the world of artistic endeavor that's what originality is all about. Continued inspiration... rlc
I'll see what I can come up with for fifty quid. (-:
Word’s Amative Verse, of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 3/24/2015 9:03:17 AM
Some words escape my dictionary others are meant to enhance the verbiage contained in this poem.
The Little Song. Extended sonnet. A fifteen-minute exercise in repartee. (Poetry) - 3/21/2015 4:56:20 PM
interesting indeed ...enjoyed very much...
The Little Song. Extended sonnet. A fifteen-minute exercise in repartee. (Poetry) - 3/15/2015 9:23:26 AM
Your way with words and phraseology is uniquely yours, Mor. There will always be those who accept us and those who reject us. The reasons are irrelevant. Accomplishing what you were put on Earth to do takes precedence over everything else. In the spirit of metaphor: Not every method or fertilizer works in the garden. Finding the right ones (approach) is tantamount to the kind of endurance that allows ourselves and others to continue to produce blossoms. Despite the battles you've fought in the public forum your garden of words still remains verdant. Your legacy will be your literary and poetic creations, not your opinions. Your work is appreciated here in SoCal. Continued inspiration... rlc
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/14/2015 10:58:57 PM
Quite beautiful, indeed. We often look back on lost loves or loves that were great and, in hindsight, we might see things we would have done differently. "...last closure," indeed. Maybe, for some things, there never can be any closure... Isn't closure a form of finality? Some people don't believe in closure. Anyway, I digress... such beautiful lines as "...thro’ silk’s tremulant screen" truly take us along for the full ride; and "...that black arras we ne’er had a wish its last closure declare;" utterly picturesque and moving! -- Jeff
The Little Song. Extended sonnet. A fifteen-minute exercise in repartee. (Poetry) - 3/14/2015 8:25:57 AM
The Little Song. Extended sonnet. A fifteen-minute exercise in repartee. (Poetry) - 3/14/2015 8:07:08 AM
A poem with a purpose. I like that. I have also noticed that of all the free verse out there, I remember the rather banal jingles the most… And the clichés. I guess the reason they are clichés is because they strike a chord and people use them too much even though in their original location they stood out.
As for the dance. I learned all the classical dances early in life and they help me to dance in their perfect pattern. But, when I get on the dance floor and the beat picks up, I often change the dance step abruptly even though my dance partner has trouble keeping up. Life's little serendipity.
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/13/2015 4:46:59 PM
Sadly, particularly now for me with regard to my dear friend who left so suddenly, only memories are left. Your poem is most engaging and meaningful to me, Mor. I love aspens; we called them "trembles" when I was a child growing up in northern Canada. Quaking aspens are lovely as they shimmer in the sun with the slightest hint of breeze. I posted a poem here at AD some time ago entitled, "A Surprise of Aspens." Thank you for sharing this. Love and peace to you,
A Cotter’s Farewell. From the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 3/13/2015 4:38:21 PM
Your poem and what it expresses is very much "in tune" with the way I feel, Mor. Thank you for sharing. Love and peace to you,
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/13/2015 12:52:21 PM
Your choice of the Aspen in this works very well concerning love. Leaves on flattened stalks that flutter even in the slightest wind is quite revelatory of loves suddenly changing nature. A lovely piece, Mor. Your Scottish parlance and strong cultural influences are the savory-herbs of this delightful 'Auld Reekie Cock-a-Leekie' soup of a write. Your font is very large. Are you having trouble with your eyes? Peace to you, Poet. rlc
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/13/2015 6:47:53 AM
Happy are those who have good memories.
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. Re-Wrought. (Poetry) - 3/13/2015 6:19:16 AM
While I certainly like my intercourse to be dialectical, I'd be lying if I ever saw a Scotsman on the Clyde in a Caribbean banana boat?
Your poem is an absolute gem of remembering lost love in old age. It is so peaceful and sensual in its presentation and its poignancy.
Believe it or not, it brought back to me thoughts of a Scottish lass I once knew but couldn't know well. Unlike Melissa, Donna favored more her uncle in his picture with his heavy eyebrows and pipe in hand. An exotic look and a sad demeanor, homesick for her beloved Saskatoon in a not so sunny, California. She said goodbye and sailed away for a trip around the world and left me forever when she threw my letter in Sydney Bay. I don't often think of her, but your poem brought her back today.
Such Sadness of my Morning Dream. (Poetry) - 3/11/2015 3:38:15 PM
..a good sad dream Mor...one that affects who you are...what you understand about the human condition...human relationship...you can call it off!...but there is a dream that causes you to go into reflection mode...ruminating about the good-bad-ugly...moments of life...trying to erase the "other person" from your mind...but before you do it...your poem-words provoke your reader to question...your role in others'lives...how you might be missing out on an opportunity...be who you really could be...thanks to others in your life...and this is a good part...in dream you can...make a choice...choose to forget...that's the moment that made your verse worth writing...grown man trying not to cry in public!....
Dùn Èideann’s tram service bids a last goodbye... 16th November 1956. (Poetry) - 3/9/2015 5:42:31 PM
all i know, anyone poem that mentions a brewery has to be high minded
Dùn Èideann’s tram service bids a last goodbye... 16th November 1956. (Poetry) - 3/8/2015 10:37:34 AM
A bit too much for me to handle
Dùn Èideann’s tram service bids a last goodbye... 16th November 1956. (Poetry) - 3/8/2015 10:18:39 AM
While my Scottish vernacular is very weak, I was able to discern many colorful references in this travelogue through old Edinburgh and its tramway of some repute. For some reason, abandoned so long ago like so many in the United States along our brick paved streets, now gone as well.
Although I would have to carefully translate it all to get the full meaning, I thoroughly enjoyed reading what you've written, and wouldn't change a bit.
Dùn Èideann’s tram service bids a last goodbye... 16th November 1956. (Poetry) - 3/8/2015 7:47:54 AM
'The best laid plans' indeed. A mystery; the creative process. I can surely attest to that. This ole Norwegian had to 'chew the cuds' on this one, over breakfast, to glean from it. A great bit of history, too, composed in your marvelous thick-Scottish-parlance with plenty of ommmph.
'Them old tracks were perilous
if your bike got caught up in them
the cobblestones were unforgiving'....
Indeed! A summation that spreads out (IMO) into many areas of metaphor. You remain an authentic original voice. Enthusiastic, healthy work, Mor. As much as Habbie Simpson was the town piper, Mor o' Inchory will undoubtedly go down in history as the town poet. Continued inspiration.
Such Sadness of my Morning Dream. (Poetry) - 3/7/2015 8:20:11 AM
Strange… Has it been a year? I thought of you this morning and wondered why you hadn't written. Was it some of the illness you spoke of, or worse? Just popped into my head. And now, I see this poem from you filled with longing and remorse, something that Jerry is constantly bemoaning, and I wonder why he cannot understand when he expects others to understand him.
Twice this week, others and I had the same vibe about poetry. This morning, I found an ideal photo of the same name as my poem taken in 2012. And now this. I don't believe in supernatural things, but these connections I'm getting are quite unnerving.
Please stick around and let us smell your roses. You will make poets of us, yet.
Such Sadness of my Morning Dream. (Poetry) - 3/7/2015 8:12:36 AM
I would never criminate a writer concerning intent. Nor would I wag a finger at them for their intelligence, or complain about their effective use of languages vast palette of colors. Your choice here suites well the gist of your thoughts, Mor. Always a delight reading your poetic-inventions. Peace to you... rlc
Such Sadness of my Morning Dream. (Poetry) - 3/7/2015 2:15:07 AM
I suppose if one is fortunate enough to dream, why waste it on mono- syllables.
Anyway you have just reminded me as to why I gave Authorsden a miss for a year, nothing much has changed it would appear.
Such Sadness of my Morning Dream. (Poetry) - 3/6/2015 6:10:52 PM
I don't mind going to the dictionary for a word, maybe two, but you over-indulged in words which seemed to put there merely for the reason that makes you seem brilliant and the rest of us ignorant. Sorry, this is how I feel. Naw, not sorry at all.
Love and its Figurative Allusions. (Poetry) - 12/2/2013 7:22:08 AM
my translator agrees ...
Love and its Figurative Allusions. (Poetry) - 11/30/2013 10:18:46 PM
I'm still hung up on "earnest seeming way."
You wouldn't be dropping a little hemming on me would you, Mor?
Brilliant as usual, the parts I understood.
Love and its Figurative Allusions. (Poetry) - 11/30/2013 5:48:31 PM
Barely mastering english myself and not being accustomed to much use of other languages, I am not one of those who could easily digest these frankish phrases. The english is well done for a love poem and I guess it would charm the pants off the lady folk. The choice of script was probably for a romantic effect, but with my practical midwest orientation, just made it harder to read. A good effort and a form that we've never seen you use before. I liked it overall. Maybe we can lure some women here to get their input Mor? Bob
Love and its Figurative Allusions. (Poetry) - 11/30/2013 11:08:43 AM
Quite a departure from your usual fare, but nonetheless alluring. While the English was very direct and flirtatious, your bursting into French with such panache was brilliant and will have the ladies swooning as they savor every word.
Unfortunately, being a heterosexual man, I have not as enamored as the distaff will be. ;-)
A Geordie Seafarer. A Lyrical composition. Ballad /Blues. (Poetry) - 11/28/2013 6:22:06 AM
A fine verse and even better recording Mor. You really should attempt to redo your lost music. What I heard above the unwanted noise on the recording was very good. I have a nephew who puts music up on facebook all the time. I'm going to have to ask him how it's done. This works just as well as a stand alone work also. Bob
A Geordie Seafarer. A Lyrical composition. Ballad /Blues. (Poetry) - 11/25/2013 11:08:37 AM
In Iceland, of all places! I recall the time I put my camera down to dance to a steel drum band at Expos 67 only to find that some fool had taken my pictures. Drats!
You certainly have a fine tenor voice and this song of the sea is a real jewel. You are right about the microphone. I recently recorded one of my songs using my Andrea Superbeam array microphone, $49. The microphone recorded my bad singing and poor off key voice so well, I decided not to have anyone download it and suffer the pain. ;-)
I speak for others when I say, when I shout, "We Want More [Mor]i!"
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 11/23/2013 1:12:47 PM
Well, it is nice to get an honest opinion. A rare occasion on Authorsden!
Moreover, of course, you are nearly right in all you say.
Furthermore, you are fully entitled to rubbish my postings, I have no complaint on that; however rubbishing my small circle of readers is a different consideration that smacks of elitist egotism.
Size appears important too you!
However, and notwithstanding, you miss one important point, whereas you appear to seek fame and fortune through poetry, by writing what others want to read.
I have no such ambition. I merely write in a style that I would wish to read.
If that upsets you so be it, I can live with it.
Poetry to me is merely a catharsis, which if you knew my history then you would understand why, however you do not, so you become judgemental of others.
A common trait amongst poets apparently.
Anyway, keep taking the tablets, who knows someday they may work.
I find collecting art to be more interesting than collecting transient readers, which in turn I consider art to be more profitable than collecting todays throwaway poetry.
Who does buy that rubbish?
Certainly not I.
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 11/22/2013 3:25:37 AM
An amusing take on poetic hierarchy - You have a certain way with words that, in part, echoes past classics but...
There is no need for this kind of snobbery. Reproduction is only a scant copy of the real thing and will never be more ‘correct’ than the original. Therefore, we cannot live successfully in the past.
So, whilst it may (perhaps shrewdly) be your forte to write an archaic piece, that not all readers will grasp (thus drawing a small, bedazzled, group of worshippers), this does not make you an ‘honest’ poet.
In terms of honesty, there are many tastes and preferences to be considered, which include everything from ‘old school’ style relics (such as your own) to current pieces, which are appropriate to a wider range of present day readers.
To deem yourself competent to openly mock those with the courage to span the void between the two, shows that you are clearly just as egotistical (if not more so) as those you condemn.
Of course, not all poets are great poets, but those that write do so because they have something to offer ...and, of course, not everyone will like what is written ...but that was true even in Chaucer’s days. It’s a fact of life.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/21/2013 4:05:56 PM
Why on earth someone would question your poetic credentials Mor, I certainly do not comprehend. Eratosphere certainly sounds like a snooty site to me. I must make a note not to associate myself with those people. I'm not sure though why you consider authorsdens posting program to be old fashioned and/or cumbersome. I've taken your facebook link and will go to your page. I seldom use facebook these days myself. The only time I go there is to see what my relatives are up to. I'll see you there though. Bob.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/14/2013 9:48:02 AM
I will echo the others as far as your entitlement as a poet, par none. As for snobs and literary critics of the latest in crowd fads, the best we can do is ignore them and they will go away from lack of attention they so desperately crave.
Unfortunately, probably to my own demise, I decided to end my involvement with social networks with AD. It seems that some members of my family, unable to create websites of their own along with most of the masses, have found social networks as a way of communicating. Therefore, I am now out of view of my own family's loop.
I find AD's form for editing and posting poems quite adequate and easy to use. I'm not sure what all the fuss is about. Perhaps maybe because some are using the latest Microsoft word with its bloated document software with so many hidden modifiers that the form regurgitates it. Try using a simple text or rich text format rather than the usual .doc, getting rid of all the nasty stuff Microsoft introduced in its recent expensive upgrades. You can easily do this by saving your poem using the Save As function and designating that your poem be saved in text or rich text, perfectly easy to do and to then paste into the AD form.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/13/2013 11:13:43 PM
Your poetry is world class, in any forum, any format, by any fair-minded person. Those who disagree are entitled to all the opinions they can find ... in the cesspools of their minds.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/13/2013 4:44:48 PM
I am sorry...but I am still laughing about the comment some foolish person made saying you were a beginner poet? I have read your works for many years my friend and you are a long way from being a beginner...I think you must have joined one of those amateur run sites that have no clue as to what real poetry is and especially by a real poet such as you.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/13/2013 1:55:45 PM
Thank you Mor. for posting your facebook link.
Freud’s Shakespearean, Etherealities of Infatuation’s Imagined Love. (Poetry) - 11/13/2013 1:38:45 PM
"Infirmity doth still neglect all office whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves when nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer with the body." See this as a metaphor.
"A friend is one who knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow."
"This above all: To thine own self be true." All three quotes by you know who.
You're one of the best, Mor. Stand strong in your calling.
And never give leeway to naysayers and half-wit wannabes.
Poetry’s “Magnum Opus” forgotten. (Poetry) - 10/8/2013 1:59:15 PM
So eloquently put. An opus in words through rhythm and rhyme
Poetry’s “Magnum Opus” forgotten. (Poetry) - 9/21/2013 7:07:03 PM
Ever wonder if a masterpiece were hiding in words, in one of many obscure utterances? A modern masterpiece anyone? It was fresh picked this afternoon by chance from a crowd, never tested nor brought to market. Oh well, maybe future readers will pick by choice of repitition.
We cannot know the pick of ages or moments. Just what is pronounced a flower amongst piles of defecation. Survival in the past was by chance pronounced as the best of, only because snippets had been saved from the wreck of history. Our digital inheritance may outlast us all and thereby pick a winner from amongst our debris.
I love a poem that makes me think Mor. You may be a classic in another age. Bob
Poetry’s “Magnum Opus” forgotten. (Poetry) - 9/19/2013 12:44:38 PM
Have a seat laddies and lassies
the master has entered the room.
My life would be complete with a
magnum opus one-tenth this brilliant.
Poetry’s “Magnum Opus” forgotten. (Poetry) - 9/19/2013 10:44:59 AM
As usual, I am at a loss for understanding all your words, but hopeful of understanding the meaning of your poem. It seems to venture to me that great poetry is very infrequent and most poets are bent on describing their own digressions and transgressions rather than looking at the larger picture of life.
I walked with Faust’s devil; and saw pleasures, of life’s primrose path! (Poetry) - 8/17/2013 9:21:39 AM
I see that others have interpreted your poem better than I. I sense some dire consequences for the mere carnal act that can be pleasurable for both man and woman unless the devil or money is involved.
I walked with Faust’s devil; and saw pleasures, of life’s primrose path! (Poetry) - 8/17/2013 7:55:28 AM
Truly a fine literary feat, Mor. Thank you for sharing it. Love and peace to you,
Oremus (Poetry) - 8/16/2013 4:39:04 PM
I myself never started as a technical poet Mor, so I wasn't originally weighted down with preconceived ideas of what is the best way to write some verse or another. I sense that you weren't either. What works is what works. No recipe for what works or not. So I'm comfortable in whatever style works the best for me at the time. I write to my own taste. If someone likes that, fine. I think most of us here know what we like and what works best. Never be afraid to try something different or do the same type of writing you're comfortable in. If it's good someone will tell you so. Words are what we deal in and the style is periphery to the power of the words. Who cares what some esoteric little pod of lotus eaters think of your work? I like your work a lot myself. Bob
I walked with Faust’s devil; and saw pleasures, of life’s primrose path! (Poetry) - 8/16/2013 4:11:16 PM
Pleasure is such a heady gift. Whom the devil would have, he first must gain their trust. Would you reject your lover? Drive her away amid passions embrace? Great writing here Mor. Passion and evil never seemed so nice. Bob
An Extemporaneous Reply on being rejected, by Eratosphere. (Poetry) - 8/11/2013 8:14:46 AM
One fine classy put down! I have never heard of Eratosphere either. But then, I haven't been looking for poetry sites to post. Perhaps it was because she didn't understand your English ;-). Or, like you said, she is a freaking snob with elitest tendencies that border on ego to the anal.
My poetry will never stand elitist critical review, but at the rate that some of my poems are being read, I would say that I have a modicum of success that these snobs will never have.
You remain one of the people who give me a lesson in poetry writing with every post you make.
An Extemporaneous Reply on being rejected, by Eratosphere. (Poetry) - 8/10/2013 8:32:21 PM
Having never heard of "eratosphere" , which I presume is a poetry site, I would hesitate to criticize them directly. Your sharp words do well enough at that my friend. I believe the "moderator?", made an unthinking mistake in judging your work. I have personally read enough of your work that I would definitely not judge your work as amateurish in anyway. A classy putdown Mor. Good reading also. Bob
An Extemporaneous Reply on being rejected, by Eratosphere. (Poetry) - 8/9/2013 9:11:11 PM
Omg, too funny, as eloquent as eloquence could be, considering the subject! I dropped Eratosphere about 8-10yrs. ago, can't even 'member what poem of mine they 'rebuked'. Thanks, Mor o' Inchrory. Ten years later, I reremember me then. With rue.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
An Extemporaneous Reply on being rejected, by Eratosphere. (Poetry) - 8/9/2013 4:14:39 PM
Ha Ha Ha this is a great put down.
The Return, of an Exile. From the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 8/4/2013 4:02:36 AM
Going back to your roots, what your people and your kindred embrace their "catchpool of dreams ", is a great thing to do. All of us must remember from where we derive. I see that you somehow blame christianities influence as a negative. While I'm not sure where that came from, I see that you seem to blame the religion instead of the petty failures of men. Please excuse me if I've misinterpreted Mor. I myself denied God for many years, but he humbled me in many ways before I came to him. I gave a watch to some of the video in your link. I have listened to Celtic music for many years and gather inspiration and peace from it, even though I couldn't tell you a word that is being sung about it. Although only a small part of my descent is attributed to the Welsh I have a lot of books about the culture and early mythologies. This whole piece would be beautiful and intensely personal even if there were no attempt at a perfect rhyme pattern. It has an innate grace of its own. I enjoyed the read and it helped provide a clearer insight into what makes us whole human beings and the product of the culture/cultures that produced us. I enjoyed it too. Bob
The Leaving and its Longings. Taken from the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 10:01:40 AM
This sad, but superb, poem befits many a Scotsman who left his country for the many Commonwealths, only lucky if he were to return for hard work and death overcame him.
I too, long to go back to the place of my birth, a very pastoral and quiet scene. Unfortunately, I can no longer take harsh winters and isolation I would feel living there year-round.
The Leaving and its Longings. Taken from the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 8:42:36 AM
Wow! If poetry be the stuff of magic, charm, beauty, intrigue, and longing then you've cornered the market. And you've done it with class. This is superb. Many thanks!
The Leaving and its Longings. Taken from the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 7/28/2013 2:38:20 AM
The journey changes us in subtle ways we do not always divine Mor. The land we leave in our travels may not always be the place we remember from our youth. The mem'ry, more than the location are what makes us yearn. The place that I grew up in makes me yearn to see it myself. But that was an area with miles of farmland and woods that a boy could play in all day. Now it's miles of shopping centers and restaurants. I could not live there, or thrive there. Only die there. Excellent rhyme scheme and a great read as usual. Bob
The inevitable reflections of age, on a wasted life. (Poetry) - 7/15/2013 1:45:40 PM
Thanks for reading, regarding the Deoch an’ Doris, it is one of those Gaelic sayings, which have enshrined themselves upon the Scots language, and is now an integral part of English.
Basically, it means a farewell drink or a wee dram before retiring.
The inevitable reflections of age, on a wasted life. (Poetry) - 7/14/2013 1:00:39 PM
With time comes maturity and maturity may spawn the desire to know more. My years passed easy but empty. Empty, my hands were the devils work. But then the words found me. Then I found I didn't know much. I enjoyed this Mor. Couldn't comprehend or deduce from the overall poem what Doch-an-Doris is, but your words still possess meat and meat is what we came for. Bob
The inevitable reflections of age, on a wasted life. (Poetry) - 7/11/2013 11:13:51 AM
You are far more learned than the average bloke. I do believe that you read a lot throughout your life and that has given you a superior advantage over those, like me, who haven't. I sought book larn'n from teachers and textbooks, watered-down, just for the grades and again on out of there, doing something useful besides reading books. And look what it got me––a poor writer.
PS. I don't care what others think, I love it when you throw in a little bit of Scottish dialect, spicing up words and though I don't understand them.
The Pike and Stankies’ Ironic Fly. (Poetry) - 7/6/2013 11:50:33 AM
The irony of it all. The pike takes the mud hen's chick (our name for the stank hen) and is likewise, snared by the same feather. I should've known that fly. I acquired a kit from a TV contest in my teens, and tied a few. I did most of my fishing with a spin cast rod and artificial baits. Don't know what happened to that tie flying kit.
Just saw a special on American Eagles and their comeback after being decimated by DDT. It seems, in the fall, while they will occasionally take a duck, eagles feast for about a month on stank hens, in abundance on the upper Mississippi River. I would think that the word “stank”, referring to an enclosed body of water, stagnant and smelling bad, has moved over into modern usage. I don't know of anyone who would like to eat a mud hen.
The Pike and Stankies’ Ironic Fly. (Poetry) - 7/5/2013 7:04:42 PM
But the flyfishermans cast takes only what it needs Mor o'. It's not a net to be called disaster. Other activities might interfere in the sharp balance between nature and man, but a fisherman with one pole will not overtax the ecosystem. I don't get to test my language skills with the written habits of speech of Scotland. Stretches me though. Usually have to read it by context. Skifully written. I enjoyed. Bob
A Cotter’s Farewell. From the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 6/23/2013 11:25:57 AM
I think the Scot’s divot may have preceded even Golf, it was a term mainly used in peat cutting and roofing on the highland shielings (summer grazing huts)
Though there is a strong possibility that your very own Donald Trump may have put a new inflection on the word, in the term
“That he’s a reet Divot”
A Cotter’s Farewell. From the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 6/23/2013 7:21:43 AM
I love that wonderful Scottish word, “divot." Does it precede golf, or is it merely a derivative of golf language created in Scotland?
This one touched my heart and put a tear in my eye, for it tells the story of many poor Scotsman who had to leave the country because conditions are so bad that one could not make a living from the infertile, perennially wet, too small, parcels of land. Wise advice from the father and a great adventure for the son.
A Cotter’s Farewell. From the Highland Series. (Poetry) - 6/23/2013 1:16:21 AM
I don't unnerstand too much of yer 'ritin
but what I do I'm a-likin'.
A Vade-Mecum, of lost Friendship’s Quest. (Poetry) - 6/21/2013 12:07:08 PM
It’s wonderful that at least someone is pointing out what they consider flaws.
I wish they had a poetry workshop here, where these points could aired
One of course can plead poetic licence over the strict grammatical correctness that prevails in some types of poetry.
In this instance the intent was, that it was man’s will (the noun rather than the verb) to provide the impetus for the step.
A Vade-Mecum, of lost Friendship’s Quest. (Poetry) - 6/21/2013 10:09:38 AM
Another poem showing your incredible way with words. A lesson on how to write rhyming poetry. The only thing that I noticed was, “man's will provide,” could be used, but, “man [or men] will provide,” seems to be more readable, or perhaps, incorrect.
Poetry’s Tragedy of Flaws. A Sonnet in Anapaestic Meter. (Poetry) - 6/15/2013 9:41:19 AM
My vocabulary fails me as I read this. I can only make out that it bemoans the tragedy of so much poetry with flawed intent.
The Makin’s o’ Malts ain Barley Bree. Amended Version. (Poetry) - 6/7/2013 5:18:11 AM
sure you're not Chaucer's reincarnate spirit?
The Makin’s o’ Malts ain Barley Bree. Amended Version. (Poetry) - 5/28/2013 1:23:06 PM
I'm afraid my Scottish is so weak that I cannot tell the difference between the first and the last unless I went line by line, and then I wouldn't understand most of the words.
However, you have labored hard and long to make this as authentic as you can. For that I applaud you because in certain circles you are a poet's poet.
By George Sir! “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. (Poetry) - 5/20/2013 5:02:49 PM
I don't know. Sometimes (though I am still trying to convince myself), plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Doesn't mean I like it. Thank you, Mor. Love and peace,
By George Sir! “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. (Poetry) - 5/15/2013 7:56:42 AM
Your poetry is always enchanting and I wouldn't change a word. Thank you for the enlightened word on this little scheme for glory.
When I first read the man's post (boast?) about posting his poems to seven sites, I thought it quite odd that he had to get so much verification and social networking. Unfortunately, I was impressed by his claim to have won poetry contests. It appeared that his obsessive behavior paid off. After I read what you just wrote, I'm beginning to think otherwise and may need to check him out for what it's worth.
Another poet here has been accused of stealing poetry and posting it on his other sites as his own. As a former teacher, plagiarism starts early and is rampant in schools and even practiced in the writing of doctoral dissertations and news reports.
If we suspect that many of our work has been plagiarized, we have to use the full force of copyright laws to make sure that the culprit feels the sting of our wrath.
Pluto’s Chthonian Poet. (Poetry) - 5/12/2013 9:43:00 AM
Once again I have marveled at your tightly written words and rhyme. An epitaph of of sort about a poet's approach to the approach of Pluto (and the underworld?).
Pluto’s Chthonian Poet. (Poetry) - 5/12/2013 6:20:06 AM
The Scottish parlance lends itself perfectly to this piece. The rhythm, and rhyme scheme, and message, speaks volumes of the poets aesthesias, bailiwicks, and priorities. A fine poem for me to ingest this morning at 10,300 ft in the eastern sierras. Peace and continued inspiration ... richard
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. A poem of recounted love. (Poetry) - 4/11/2013 6:45:52 AM
"to then discharge their ions in restless mouille" ... they pissed on themselves?
a fine adventure in language ...
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. A poem of recounted love. (Poetry) - 4/8/2013 7:39:02 AM
Your poems are lesson in language and vocabulary that I enjoyed immensely what I learned from them. To fully comprehend this poem, I would need to read it many times.
Oremus (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 9:33:59 AM
Your complaint is heard and understood.
There are two camps in this fast-paced world. The slam poets who like to get out in the streets and rant loud and fast like hip-hop artists, slipping in the gutter talk and personal vendettas along with their cool renditions.
And then there are those in those rare circles of personal indulgence who, through some self-appointed hierarchy, draft incoherent prose in an effort to impress small circle of like-minded esoteric fools, thinking they are inventing a whole new genre by violating any rules of poetry or punctuation in their quest for recognition. Prizes or not, most of that poetry faded into oblivion quickly.
It's only the poem that stirs passion in the heart, or makes a point so well that it informs and enlightens, using time-honored lyrical and metrical enhancement that can truly be called, great poetry. And even that must stand the test of time.
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 8:49:12 AM
You sure put the use of my dictionary to good use.
Holta Soley's last dying dream- (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 8:29:12 AM
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 4:59:53 AM
Who am I to try and better what has already been said of your work.
Oremus (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 4:41:16 AM
How well you have expressed the thoughts of some and how you look upon the daily prattle of those who in themselves have high esteem.
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/19/2013 7:23:46 AM
Oh how you remind me of the genius of Poe
You straddle the fence of genius and another world...
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/17/2013 8:44:03 AM
You are a mighty wordsmith. While I write poetry to improve my vocabulary, it pales when I read your work. I am often at a loss to translate. Like you, I believe that a poem should have a purpose, a beginning, an end, and the lyrical so that the reader not bored by the flat prose of someone's stream of consciousness or gripe.
For you to have explored the Internet and found several sites to place your poetry is quite a feat beyond my comprehension. I post my poems on my website and have been getting quite favorable response from searches for a few of them.
As for AD, there's next to no help with composing a poem on this social network. However, I do enjoy the glowing accolades, however insincere.
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/17/2013 6:37:49 AM
Poetry's pecking order. hahahaha ... love that. And, as you infer, wise replies are almost non-existent, Mor. I don't want to sound cynical, but most just tweet some drivel in an effort to keep others coming to their own page. Don't look for too much intelligent intercourse here. There are still a few, though, who can enlighten you with their selfless insights, and actually influence you creatively. My gosh do I appreciate that when it happens. Much thought put into this, Mor, and fine Scottish expertise is shown in your presentation. You have many nuggets of phraseology here that linger in the synapses ...
"Spindling floccule’s poetic byssus:" if I interpret this correctly you're using your pen (figurative or literal) to capture the last unexpended bits of poetic insight that stick to you before you retire.
"When lenitive language deceives the pen
‘Til words, forgo their figurines of thought:
spreading cereous wings as in Icarus."
i think the cathartic nature of writing is adopted by most. Writer's work things out with words. Your discontents are plainly understood here. And also your cry for more quality, depth, and honor, is evident. For several years (years ago) my writing was nothing but cathartic. All of what I wrote in that period, however, has been retired from public view. I am not the kind of person anymore who shares everything they write. Perhaps one in ten (or less) is shared with the public, and even that seems too much at times. It's a pleasure to read you again. Your work inspires me to look deeper.
All the best to you Scotsman ... richard
Poetry and its Hushed Fool; (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 10:45:42 AM
This reveals the silence of listening and what a person learns in that moment. Richard is right, the amount of times that muted soul exemplifies the true poet looking in from the outside. This is taken to heart, Mor as it should by everyone. Great write...
Holta Soley's last dying dream- (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 9:33:17 AM
"So shrouded in sorrow" there is far too much in life burdened under this wet musty shawl. And often the redressal of our (many) peccadilloes is only an attempt to mollify self (to feel good) and not to promote healing from what we've inflicted upon another. Another fine insight, scotsman. Enjoyed ... r
Poetry and its Hushed Fool; (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 9:14:36 AM
No fool, Mor, just a purist listening intently and hoping to be inspired. I slipped into a poetry nightclub several months ago to listen. I was appalled at what some people consider poetry. I was waiting for beatniks to appear playing bongo drums. Oftentimes silence is golden, to quote the old maxim. But sometimes silence, or Stillness, reveals a profusion of cobwebs inhibiting pure creative expression, and they need to be removed. It's where I am of late. Time to clean out my creative house and reorient. I've begun writing another novel to help with that process. Good insight, Mor. Simple and to the point. All the very best for you. Continued inspiration ... r
O Erato how in passing you must weep-The five-minute sonnet. (Poetry) - 12/31/2012 7:05:34 AM
Weep nae, elder brither, fur sic' is th' nature ay mony men, tae tak' a hin' sae bonnie, an' lash it tae a wheel. Round and round, round it goes, over every imaginable surface, into every morbid mudhole, over rocks and broken glass and roadkill, until at last it resembles not itself. Och weel ... fur sic' is th' nature ay mony men ...
Anither stoat insecht, scotsman, frae yer braw sharp pen ... Blessings ... richard
O Erato how in passing you must weep-The five-minute sonnet. (Poetry) - 12/31/2012 6:21:29 AM
arise from mild duress
When in reflective moods
pure poetry exudes
and to the press of time
affords more words sublime...
I enjoyed reading your lines
like fine and ages wines
or shapely cougars dressed to the nines!
Happy New Year
She not so liken to Burns “Red, Red Rose” (Poetry) - 12/29/2012 8:53:23 AM
I understand properties in this analogous to the forms originator; The Life and Death of the Piper Kilbarchan.
A braw poetic piece foo ay th' beauty an' uniqueness ay Scottish insecht.
Your work, Mor, serves to preserve a lost art, IMO. A once verdant season of poetic expression that few know about, and few care to understand. Only you could draw this intelligent and artistic parallel. I can only bemoan the fact that there are those who would 'malign' what you birth and share. In my Viking heritage such contrariness would require having heads removed with a broadsword. hahaha... It's become a strange world of fast-food words, more akin to narcissistic diary/journal entries than aesthetic poetic expression. Aw weil! May the mythical Erato continue guiding your thoughts and uniquely gifted pen.
Lang life an' health tae ye in th' comin' year. ... richard
She not so liken to Burns “Red, Red Rose” (Poetry) - 12/28/2012 5:23:51 PM
i really enjoyed the composition of the piece
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/16/2012 1:32:31 PM
Argh, I have two left feet and as such am completely unable to count a metric foot. The more I try, the worse off I am. I envy those whose prose flows out of their toes! LOL... I couldn't resist.
I hope you enjoyed the scotch. I prefer Polish potato vodka.
All the best!
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/15/2012 11:10:11 PM
now this got my motors going ...
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/15/2012 9:23:57 AM
"It matters not a tweet what they say to me, I merely write the words and let those others be" Great summation, poet! 47 year old Glennfidditch eh? Are you kidding? Though I am not a drinker anymore, except for an occasional wee nip, I can't help being curious about how that flows over the tongue. The science of poetry, Mor? Aw weil...
Perhaps the Japanese forms with their mathematical/syllabic approach, but not much else.
The Pyrrhic Paradox - a metrical foot of two unstressed syllables. I haven't heard that term mentioned since I was in college. I agree, too, with the 'no need' to stick with the rhymes. You've created some here that are pleasing though. And I feel it is certainly a legitimate part of poetic expression, that takes a specific kind of acumen, and it should be treated with the same respect as other forms. Enjoyed this, Scotsman. Your work encourages the reader to think and delve into other areas rarely explored on this site. You certainly don't just grunt out another daily poetic turd like so many do. i feel you labor diligently over your work, and, because of it, each construct has a certain kind of beauty woven into the essence of it that intrigues this reader.
Thankyou for sharing.
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 8:58:36 AM
I had to edit the link to your family's former home, and found it to be similar to many in the eastern United States built in the 16 and 1700s. I'm so glad you got to go back and do a little historical archaeology to find a beautiful place of your origin.
You speak of poets of the day, and right today with the same passion and sensitivity. Thank you so much for sharing this little bit of history with us. It is obvious that religion has been used by the rich and royalty for eons to get took it their way. Despicable acts continue today.
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 8:43:11 AM
Glenlivet Estate? Aye! Have enjoyed several bottles of Glenlivet in my earlier years. haha! You've called forth a finely wrought historical prose/poem here, Mor. Seems there are new inspirations burgeoning in your creative life. Another vanguard for you to explore and enjoy. Much to be thankful for, and much to bemoan; the best kind of inspiration for a writer (IMO).
To appreciate the phraseology, spirit, and color, I've read this three times and am blessed because of it. Thoughtful sadness permeates the spirit of this. Many look back (me included (at times) bemoaning so much degradation) and see something better from yesteryear. Perhaps a dream that once burned in the writers heart not yet fulfilled. Certainly this is true of my own life. I find this piece reminiscent to me of another poem - a seemingly unrequited cry, too - by another Scotsman, Shaw o'Inchrory:
Verse 7. As I sang of Gaelic's virtues ~ at their God birth o my race
emotion cried true venues ~ as they streamed down my face
My tortured soul a-dying ~ its now full sacrifice supreme
as I, tended love's own embers ~ in a last ~ and dying dream.
Thankyou for sharing your work... richard
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:53:39 AM
i think i dreamt this last night ...
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:45:17 AM
your poem definitely jingles the synapses ...
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:44:21 AM
see what not finding your glasses will do ...
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 11/30/2012 7:59:16 PM
Beautiful, Mor. I felt a'relative, spell-bound yet passionate, historic, damned and bitter in a human way, relative to past past. But not to future.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 11/25/2012 11:01:40 AM
I am in accord with Richard. For there is much from this poem that my meager mind cannot discern. However, I did sense a bit of discord over the quality of poetry/prose presented here.
I too, have these qualms as the English language and its punctuation and spelling is massacred in favor of trite messages saying little except what the daily weather is. Still, I need someone to edit my work for it to be acceptable for publication, and that is very difficult to obtain in the online environment. I find myself editing my work and still not seeing, “the forest for the trees.” But as someone once told me, “the cream rises to the top.” And from time to time, like the story I read this morning, I find a jewel in the chaff.
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 11/25/2012 7:41:52 AM
Hi Mor ...
You have constructed a poem as richly diverse, in spirit and gist, as Eden. And, too, you have threaded it deftly with the philosophic, and much that seemingly remains unrequited in how you feel about poetry and literature. Your phraseology, and choice of words, Mor, are as impressive as a fiery golden sunset, but sadly, if I may note, well past most readers ability to understand. I applaud this.
A purists tears mingling with the quills ink.
No one can appreciate your work without studying it, Mor. Sadly, most people anymore don't have the attention span, or cognitive ability, to do so. I can imagine that your dictionary(s) and thesaurus' are quite dog-eared. haha. Given your 'advanced age' (as you've described it to me) your mind (IMO) is still marvelously incisive, as well as keen to put forth your poetic philosophies and idealisms. I applaud this, too.
"Poetic word; Art’s guide-way to the gods (gods??)
sees prose remain those flat footed plods
by which: we poets still unceasing tread."
People are still willing to try. This is a good thing. Something can be gleaned from anyones work. There are many varied flowers (poets/writers) in the fields of words my friend. And all have their purpose, and their own unique beauty. Art, for the most part, reflects the times. Sadly there is much degradation on this planet - artistically, morally, spiritually - which affects how art and writing is cogitated and birthed.
In those pieces of yours I have had the privilege to read, there is a common thread; you bemoan the debased nature of what poetry/prose has become in comparison to what it once was before the internet. Still ... on the bright side ... if it wasn't for the internet, I would never have had the advantage to read your constructs. It's all a matter of focus.
Never rest your quill, Scotsman.
With respect ... richard
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/14/2012 11:20:52 PM
Ockham's Razor always kept me shaved ...
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/13/2012 10:28:05 PM
You Still here Mor,
Nice to read you again, its been.....eons
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/12/2012 9:24:00 AM
An experimental Haibun eh? haha! A cheeky piece rich with dark humor. I perceive Gaelic high-mindedness, and disdain for Christianity, in the subtext of your satire. Thankyou for sharing this sharp-witted hearty remonstrance towards poets at the vanguard of new expression... Ye ur huir uv a uniquely wired. My poetic response, below, to your lament, Mor...
Alas upon those shores I lay
A stone of fond remembrance
Those times when eagerly we strove
Up paths of youthful merriment
On paper bridges now we strive
In somber sonnets din
Ere what was once the mandrakes tine
Now resides in fate and whim
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/12/2012 7:49:21 AM
Powerful words and lashing commentary on the state of poetics today. Much enjoyed.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 11/3/2012 7:12:06 PM
Your sonnet is on a high level of literary expression. Thank you for sharing your gift, Mor. Love and peace,
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/28/2012 9:18:51 AM
Your literary voice, your choice of words, and phraseology, are certainly your own poet. And you are one of very few that I am obliged to seek a dictionary with. Your criticism of one of my sentences encouraged me to change it. An interesting piece here, Mor. Peace and continued inspiration ... richard
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/27/2012 11:16:40 AM
Yes, I have noticed that some of our members approaching the end of their lives tend to write a great deal about that plight. I am tempted, but not quite ready to reach that point as I write my autobiography of adventures of my youth that I can no longer partake. I do not look at them with sadness, but look forward to what I can accomplish in a few short years I have left.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/27/2012 12:32:26 AM
This is a complicated write for me a 'non academic' But the fact that its held me here for more than ten minutes is I must think..what makes it an interesting challenging to unravel. I mean this as a compliment.
I'm gonna' get to the bottom of it before long. I never give up.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/26/2012 4:19:36 PM
as far as i can see, your mind hasn't left ...
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 8:29:30 AM
I'm glad for Richard's interpretation, because I was without a dictionary. For that I'm going to say that your poem probably has great meaning that I am unable to fathom at this time. Maybe later.
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 7:17:14 AM
Very open to interpretation.
'Charnel Poet of Truth' ... a paradox?
A living poet channeling the aesthesias of dead poets?
Charnel - noun: A vault or building where corpses and bones are deposited. Adjective: gruesomely indicative of death or the dead. The choices of words and gist indicate (to me) the writers preoccupation with a certain genre of the classics, and an on-going desire to keep a certain kind of phraseology alive that modernity has rendered mostly moot or irrelevant.
Certainly an interesting construct, Scotsman, one articulated esthetically, scripted meticulously, and impossible to absorb in one reading. Incidentally, the subtext is rich (IMO) and reveals, to me, an image of a writer, on in years, suffering physically, finicky in a good way, and still very passionate about what he considers the purity of earlier poetic endeavor before the internet.
Peace & continued inspiration ...
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 1:03:24 AM
nice to read
The Strange Scouse Poet we met in Haworth. (Poetry) - 10/18/2012 7:00:31 AM
While I'm not as familiar as it should be with the English language, and the places you describe, I found your journey highly entertaining and knowledgeable except for my lack of knowledge of even the word, "Scouse." I find something, musical and charming in meter and rhyme. While I find free verse to be flat and unimaginative. There is always a new, “wave,” of something. Some of these waves are revolutionary, but most of them are just nonsense and, as you showing your last two stanzas, don't stand the test of time… Or even a test of rhyme. ;-)
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 10/14/2012 2:25:34 PM
Egads, seriously, this poem is way over my head, Mor. Good to see you are still writing and drawing inspiration from your archaic English/Anglo-Saxon/Gaelic and romance languages dictionary. ;-)
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 10/14/2012 10:53:40 AM
I have not read the original, but I find the vocabulary rather difficult to navigate in spite of the beautiful sound it makes when read out loud. All I have to say, is kudos for a finely crafted piece.