F39
Do you write, do you read?
April 04 2016
Comments
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RHP User
10 years ago
"Fck"..it is bloody cold!"The end" I WAS going to add another line or two... But THEN, I would have had to call it a Ballad...And I don't do ballads..
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RHP User
10 years ago
I was gonna write something I saw on Facebook and modified it:- So I will.... Roses are red, Violets are blue, I can't write poetry, So show us yer tits!!! Lol :p
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RHP User
10 years ago
Always the Ratbag Stirry
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RHP User
10 years ago
"Barbaric Poems"Here's one from a LONG time ago.. early eighties maybe... dunno... a lifetime ago..I don't think I had ever slept under a "Quilt" at that time.. (I was brought up under "Army Blankets") and This delightful girl on a very remote mineste had one..she was going away for a week.. and snuck in before she left, and threw the VERY plush Doona thingy over me.. and told me to enjoy it whilst she was away..I remember dozing off to sleep.. thinking how it felt like a huge bear skin like an Indian might own...Anyway.. I awoke in the morning.. and as always, I have a notepad by my bed..Lo and fckn behold... THIS morning, it had writing on it.. and I could not even remember waking and writing this poem..I did mean to one day tidy it up.. but thought..."Nah.. fck it.. leave it as I wrote it last .. "I called it "A Dream" As I lay beneath your quilt last nightto drift in pleasant thoughtof warriors- and their womenand the lives for which they fought. I met you in their Tepeewith the passion of their timeand the glory of a noble tribe-their folklore and their rhyme. I met you in that folklorewhere we seemed so to belong-our very lives became entrenched,in the rhythm of their song. I met you during seasonswhen the tempest- dangers wroughtfound us sitting by enchanted hearth,and each others comfort sought. Where togetherness meant survival,and a love together borne,kept a safety and contentmentin the still before the dawn. I met you running freely,through the springs of many years-in the abandonment to nature,with it's lack of mortal fears The sweet cascading waters,through some valley flowed serene:tropical garden- our own Eden,oh the view was grand as seen. Thus so I woke this morning,with a song of beauty in my heart- and a yearning for what could be,to those game to take their part.
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RHP User
10 years ago
having a go always gets a thumbs up anyway. Where would you like it? 👍 😏 It's all give and take, yes? Cavey, A Dream- that's magic! It's really raw and evocative. From the first I had this sense of long, partially dried out grass fields. The kind that would have a really subtle, earth scent. I'm glad you didn't ever touch it. I knew there'd be talent. 😄 - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
I do both, and can't imagine a day when I don't. I'll share some of my own later. Dream and Cavey, thank you for sharing. Stirry, love you're work. ;-) - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
Thelonius, my old friend Step on in and let me shake your hand So glad that you're here again for one more time Let your madness run with mine Streets still unseen, we'll find somehow No time is better than now Tell me where are you driving midnight cruiser? Where is your bounty of fortune and fame? I am another gentlemen loser Drive me to Harlem or somewhere the same The world that we used to know People tell me it don't turn no more The places we used to go Familiar faces that ain't smilin' like before The time of our time has come and gone I fear we've been waiting too long Tell me where are you driving midnight cruiser? Where is your bounty of fortune and fame? I am another gentlemen loser Drive me to Harlem or somewhere the same Carl Becker / Donald Fagen
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RHP User
10 years ago
When he says to you:You look so beautifulyou smell so nice -how I've missed you -and did you come yet? It means nothing,and he is smaller,than a mouse's fart. Don't listen to him...Go to Annagodown Pier with your father's rod.Don't necessarily hold outfor the biggest one;often the biggest onesare the smallest in the end. Bring them all home,but not together.One by one is the trick;avoid red herrings and scandal. Maybe you could take twoon the shortest day of the year.Time is the cheater here not you, so don't worry. Many will bite the usual bait:They will talk their slippery waythrough fine clothes and expensive perfume,fishing up your independence. These are,The did-you-come-yets of the western world,the feather and fin rufflers.Pity for them they have no wisdom. Others will bite at any bait.Maggot, suspender, or dead worm.Throw them to the sharks. In time one will crawlout from under thigh-landAlthough drowning he will say, Woman I am terrified, why is the house shaking?' And you will know he's the one. RITA ANN HIGGINS
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RHP User
10 years ago
When I was experimenting over the years in my never ending quest for (vanilla) profile ideas, I wrote a poem of sorts, but realised it was much too sappy... (ie vomit material) :) FYI: Urban dictionary: "sappy: Something or someone very lame, or so sweet that it makes you want to puke." Why am I posting it here now?... Maybe because the OP asked, and maybe to see if people have REALLY got over their gag reflex :P (It is about no-one in particular, more so the hope of someone...) --- A mutual love, I thought would never come true; Yet you feel for me what I feel for you. Watching couples in love used to break my heart; Thinking this is a world I could never take part. Be a kiss or a laugh, or a smile from within; I'd watch through the glass with not a way in. But when you took my hand and closed it in your own; You showed me a world that I had never known. Now I'll work all day just to make you smile; Chase your woes away for a little while. Never mind the demons that are in your past; The bonds between us shall always hold fast. Just the lightest touch of your skin on mine; Gives me thrills more so than the finest wine. The dead of winter's night's not a time for qualms; You'll be safe and warm when you're in my arms. We'll have fun in the sun and see all of the land; Wherever we'll be, we'll be hand in hand. I will do my best to keep you from stress; Long after the day of your wedding dress. Be it days or years, my hope will not sway; I will wait for your love to pass by my way. Let this be an ode that I'll hold to keep; Till you share with me a love this deep.
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RHP User
10 years ago
Because I also like my crude humour just as much as Stirry... Roses are red Violets are blue This poem doesn't rhyme Or fit into the lines it's supposed to, but it doesn't matter because I'm an Australian and I don't give a f*ck
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RHP User
10 years ago
Quoting 'Stirry' I was gonna write something I saw on Facebook and modified it:- So I will.... Roses are red, Violets are blue, I can't write poetry, So show us yer tits!!! Lol :p Oh, cum on, Stirry! Is that the best you can come up with?! Roses are red Violets are blue Your knickers are nice But without them you're sexier! Roses are red Violets are blue Your boxers are bulging My pussy is drenching!
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RHP User
10 years ago
There must be some sands through the hourglass filtering through, Country? Melancholia is such a spiteful and sultry bitch. All my favorite writers are her victims. Destruction in life and beauty on the page. Would you cure them? I wouldn't. - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
"I am another gentlemen loser. " What's your favorite? Why are you drawn to it? - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
abdominal girth, Feelings of mirth, Behold its existence, And all of its substance, The aroma in the air, Smelled nothing like air, I ponder, I ponder, What be it?? Yup, it's shit!!! Lol :p Is THAT better?? - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
it smelled nothing like HAIR!!!!! - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
Howls echo from lustful Dark reaches of the cave Just in case males nearbyWonder what's "going down"She signals So now they knowCock antennae slowly unfurl Wait!Why does she sing the opera of fuckAnd not he? She screams her coming-nessWhile he throbs & surges in silence Front page tribal news!Hot woman Receptive Wants more Gathering in the gloom They slide along the walls That night six menYoung old in-betweenWill inseminate herAs her aria surges lustfully Once drained They will return to the firesideSmiling noddingSlipping into sleep As the songContinues In autumn as she pushes forth new lifeEach man will look for And findSome semblance of self NOTE: After reading Sex At Dawn: Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality. QUESTION: Why do women vocalise loudly during sex?ANSWER: to attract other men & thus generate obscured paternal outcomes (ie father could be any one of seven)WHY THOUGH?: survival of the species is more likely to occur within tribes who accept general responsibility for all offspringALTERED BEHAVIOURS: include shared foods, stronger gene pool mixes within smaller tribal groups, etc THOUGHT: We humans are just bloody fascinating! RHPie comes closest to celebrating what it is to be human - surely? DID YOU KNOW?: Females create vaginal secretions to facilitate the delivery of preferred sperm to ovum; and males who can make her come will receive the added species survival mechanism of stronger muscular receptors within the vagina. Wow………...
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RHP User
10 years ago
The heavy heart referred to by the Victorians As melancholia,visits me once again. It comes at times when the struggle to Remain relevant returns ,the focus turns To outward occupation,the fragile ego Being propped by plans to plant and Foster what I hope will be emerging Fragrant beauty,a garden transcending And transforming all that pain. Freya
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RHP User
10 years ago
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it's a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
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RHP User
10 years ago
I love that line MidnightQuoting 'Longest_dream' "I am another gentlemen loser. " What's your favorite? Why are you drawn to it? This song is about passing your prime without accomplishing anything. The first verse is really about the singer hoping to rediscover old avenues of fortune and inspiration from his younger days...when he was in his prime and all avenues seemed open to him. The chorus tears hides off of the people who should have been famous for being so artistic, with it, slick, hip and cool. The singer self-identifies as one of these "gentlemen losers", with all the posture and none of the necessary substance of action. Last verse speaks to how everything that was going on when it was cool to be doing what the singer is still doing, effective the whole world...is gone. The people, the sense of fortune et al...gone. It wasn't just a matter of the singer choosing to take part in the world, it was about the juxtaposition of the opportunities with the willingness to take them. The coup de gras, the killer line of it all, is..."The time of our time has come and gone...I fear we been waiting too long." Literally, the years of the singer's invincibility and inspiration are behind him...all those doors are closed to him now. He squandered it because he never thought those doors would close. I have been a huge Steely Dan for years ... the lyrics that on the surface may seem somewhat abstract really aren't that at all. Add in some of the most melodic guitar riffs ever recorded? Play it again, Sam!
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RHP User
10 years ago
Be reasonably good at this. In my younger days as a grunt in Townsville (sorry Luckdragon) I used to make a fair bit of extra coin writing poems for my mates' girlfriends on Valentine's Day and so on. And so - may I present my piece de resistance....... 'The Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal.' *rapturous applause* - Posted from rhpmobile
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Grouse33
10 years ago
in poetry, and that lots of stuff people think of as poetry is one very small form (ie verse). But then I had a look at my all time favourite poem and realised it has a straight AB ryhme structure. I guess in this instance the simplicity of the verse contrasts pretty well with the earthiness of the language and the complexity of the subject matter. This be the Verse - Phillip Larkin And don't have any kids yourself. Get out as early as you can, It deepens like a coastal shelf. Man hands on misery to man. And half at one another's throats. Who half the time were soppy-stern By fools in old-style hats and coats, But they were fucked up in their turn And add some extra, just for you. They fill you with the faults they had They may not mean to, but they do. They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
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Grouse33
10 years ago
I pasted that text in, and it displayed in the wrong order. Hopefully this will work: And don't have any kids yourself. Get out as early as you can, It deepens like a coastal shelf. Man hands on misery to man. And half at one another's throats. Who half the time were soppy-stern By fools in old-style hats and coats, But they were fucked up in their turn And add some extra, just for you. They fill you with the faults they had They may not mean to, but they do. They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
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RHP User
10 years ago
it's getting late and loosing sleep again. 😌 The Steely Dan's, Leonard Chohen's and Jeff buckly's of the world give us so much fodder for thought. I love listening to music with my hubby. We've introduced each other to so many different things over the years. It's always interesting to discuss the take we have on the lyrics. Admittedly, he's usually got the lyrics right and I'm off in my own little world! Maybe I've got a new one to plug him into. I can't say I know him offhand. 😀 That's an excellent analogy btw. - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
I was going to offer up Better off without a wife by Tom Waits. I quite like that one. This caught my eye on the way there. For anyone who's sitting up late, don't drink and text. Things will look different in the morning. 😜 The piano has been drinking. Tom Waits. The piano has been drinking My necktie is asleep And the combo went back to New York The jukebox has to take a leak And the carpet needs a haircut And the spotlight looks like a prison break 'Cause the telephone's out of cigarettes And the balcony's on the make And the piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking And the menus are all freezing And the light man's blind in one eye And he can't see out of the other And the piano-tuner's got a hearing aid And he showed up with his mother And the piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking 'Cause the bouncer is a sumo wrestler Cream puff Casper milk toast And the owner is a mental midget With the I.Q. of a fencepost 'Cause the piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking And you can't find your waitress With a geiger counter And she hates you and your friends And you just can't get served without her And the box-office is drooling And the bar stools are on fire And the newspapers were fooling And the ash-trays have retired 'Cause the piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking Not me, not me, not me, not me, not me. Btw- thanks for posting Freya, after I set the subject I saw you had posted the same recently. Sorry! It wasn't actually the old thread I had referred to. I just didn't look very hard 😁 Eeep! Xx - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
I'm just at page 100+ in a 1300+ page tome, so far so good.Despite my recent lengthy post I'm not much of a writer and I tend to put most of my writing talent into job applications.As it happens my long post was composed as a diversion and a side line to an application letter, I had an interview today...
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RHP User
10 years ago
And the ones you hole close to your heart. I find in the night again.. NIGHT -William Blake. THE sun descending in the west The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine. The moon like a flower In heaven's high bower With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night. Farewell green fields and happy grove Where flocks have took delight: Where lambs have nibbled silent move The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing And joy without ceasing On each bud and blossom And each sleeping bosom. They look in every thoughtless nest Where birds are cover'd warm; They visit caves of every beast To keep them all from harm: If they see any weeping That should have been sleeping They pour sleep on their head And sit down by their bed. When wolves and tigers howl for prey They pitying stand and weep Seeking to drive their thirst away And keep them from the sheep. But if they rush dreadful The angels most heedful Receive each mild spirit New worlds to inherit. And there the lion's ruddy eyes Shall flow with tears of gold: And pitying the tender cries And walking round the fold: Saying 'Wrath by His meekness And by His health sickness Are driven away From our immortal day. 'And now beside thee bleating lamb I can lie down and sleep Or think on Him who bore thy name Graze after thee and weep. For wash'd in life's river My bright mane for ever Shall shine like the gold As I guard o'er the fold.' - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
10 years ago
I'm sure you can decipher what I'm trying to say. 😑 - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
9 years ago
I haven't been writing at all. After watching Howl the other night I jotted some notes down and thought I'd workshop it later. Went to do that today and I liked this bit as is. Nothing fancy. It relates directly to Ginsburg and has a few other references. Moloch and fear. The fear trap The dying embers of other people's words. And I scream Fire walk with me as I light a torch to the lost. Never leave the labyrinth of time And the beat goes on I'm still standing here left behind. What if I never mattered. Just neurons firing, A triptych of deciet and wanton nature. That desire to jump and land running. Never stop. That's all she wrote 😉 - Posted from rhpmobile
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RHP User
9 years ago
Tell me no more of constancy,The frivolous pretenseOf cold age, narrow jealousy,Disease, and want of sense Let duller fools, on whom kind chanceSome easy heart has thrown,Despairing higher to advance,Be kind to one alone. Old men and weak, whose idle flameTheir own defects discovers,Since changing can but spread their shame,Ought to be constant lovers. But we, whose hearts do justly swellWith no vainglorious pride,Who know how we in love excel,Long to be often tried. Then bring my bath, and strew my bed,As each kind night returns;I'll change a mistress till I'm dead -And fate change me to worms. John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester1647 - 1680
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RHP User
9 years ago
Awake, awake, my lyre, And tell thy silent master's humble tale In sounds that may prevail, Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire, Though so exalted she And I so lowly be, Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony. Hark, how the strings awake, And though the moving hand approach not near, Themselves with awful fear A kind of numerous trembling make. Now all thy forces try, Now all thy charms apply, Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye. Weak lyre ! thy virtue sure Is useless here, since thou art only found To cure but not to wound, And she to wound but not to cure. Too weak, too, wilt thou prove My passion to remove ; Physic to other ills, thou 'rt nourishment to love. Sleep, sleep again, my lyre, For thou canst never tell my humble tale In sounds that will prevail, Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire ; All thy vain mirth lay by, Bid thy strings silent lie ; Sleep, sleep again, my lyre, and let thy master die. Abraham Cowley1618 - 1667
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RHP User
9 years ago
Everything that is beauty is Jennifer Her eyes capture your soul at a glance They are piercing and bright, they lift you up, give you light But they can condemn you, make you plead for a chance Jenny's mouth is warm and inviting Her lips are soft and full Her smile carries you away, brings life to each day And can brighten the gloomiest room Her voice is rich and melodic And it whispers straight to your soul It can lull you to sleep, share sweet secrets to keep Tear you down or make you feel whole Her hair flows wild and luxuriant Her face is welcoming, balanced and flawless When you look at her you find, nothing else comes to mind Only the desire to bath in her warmness Her body defines feminity With a symmetry that's hard to discover Luscious curves and soft skin, a trance you'll be in Trying to come to terms with the perfection of her It's as though she stepped out of a canvas The creation of Rembrandt or Monet Her fluidity and grace, her form matches her face You're entranced as she moves on her way Jenny's rare in her generous character She is caring, gentle and wise She can remove the sting of any pain that you're in Fill your heart so it feels wife it's size She has great spirit, her will is like iron Once chosen, she stays her course She'll not stop or turn, her prize she'll earn And she'll have it for better or worse To me, she's the entire world To know her is to wish to be near her She can bring euphoric happiness or devastating sadness Everything that is love is Jennifer
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RHP User
9 years ago
Typo in verse seven. "Wife" should have been "twice", obviously. Freudian slip, perhaps.
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RHP User
9 years ago
She betrayed me so completely Cast me aside for the sake of another Put him in my place while lying straight to my face Still all that I want is her She lived her life how ever she wanted Took me along as long as I didn't ruffle her fur Disregarded me in her quest to be free Still all that I want is her Honestl and loyalty, when not in her interest We're ignored and this I had to endure Her promises she broke, my heart she would choke Still all that I want is her All I've lived for she's taken from me My family, my home and more I can't take the strain of this intense pain Still all that I want is her Had they left me to die it'd all be over But they forced me to, "Hang in there, sir!" I felt peaceful and calm, yet they wrapped up my arms Still all that I want is her
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RHP User
9 years ago
It had been a crap day at work and Beth was looking forward to getting home for some quiet time. The drive was a blur as her mind wandered to the large bath in her ensuite where she would soon be laying, wrapped in the warmth of the water where she would forget all about the day. Arriving home, Beth rushed inside and tossed her bag and jacket on the couch. She went to the bathroom and turned on the taps then poured in some scented bubble bath. A couple of candles were on the bench so she lit these and turned off the bathroom lights. The bath filled as she stripped off her work cloths. The hot water felt amazing on her sore feet as Beth stepped over the edge of the bath. She had been on her feet all day….and this was just the tonic. She lay down in the bath and allowed the hot water to soak her skin. She played with the bubbles for a bit then put her head back and closed her eyes. “Did I lock the front door?”, she thought for moment. “Oh well, I’m not getting up now”. Taking her mind off the day’s events, Beth searched for a happier memory. —————————— A new neighbour had moved in across the road recently. She had met him only once, but Beth’s memory of the meeting was still very fresh in her mind. She had been getting the mail one morning when she saw Andrew walking to his car. He was tall, fit looking, and had a shaved head. She had a thing for shaved heads. Looking up from the mailbox she had smiled at him as he looked in her direction. He smiled back, and then walked towards her. Half way across the road Andrew, still smiling, started speaking. “Hi, I’m Andrew. I’ve just moved in and don’t know anyone in the neighbourhood”. He reached her and put out his hand to shake Beth’s. Their eyes locked as they shook hands and said hello. Beth felt a tingle in her stomach as their hands touched. She said hello and they made some small talk before heading back to their respective houses. Beth had noticed that their eyes had not left each others the entire time they had spoken. —————————— In the bath, Beth recalled this meeting and the feeling she had when their hands touched. She moved a hand to her breasts and used her fingers to slowly circle her nipples. This was just the memory she needed to forget about the day. Her mind wandered back to Andrew as her other hand slipped down her stomach and found her pussy. “Yes” she thought, “this fantasy will be just what the doctor ordered”. Beth slowly rubbed her pussy as she fantasied about the new neighbour. ————————— Andrew had seen Beth arrive home from work and rush inside. He been thinking about her since they met and was looking for a reason to say hello again. Crossing the road he was thinking of a “not dumb” question to ask, just to see her again. He reached the front door and knocked. As he did, the door pushed open. Beth had not shut it properly. Andrew called out but the ensuite was at the other end of the house so Beth did not hear him. Wondering if something was wrong, Andrew stepped inside and looked around. He saw Beth’s coat and bag on the couch. Walking further inside he continued towards the back of house. Arriving at the bedroom, he heard some low moaning noises coming from the bathroom. Was this really happening? Should he call out? Nope, he thought….secretly hoping that what he heard was he what he thought it was…. He quietly peaked inside the bathroom waited for his eyes to adjust to the candle light. He saw Beth, laying in the bath, eyes closed. The bubbles had dispersed and he could see her hands…one on her breasts and the other rubbing her pussy. He stood for a moment, watching. Beth continued to rub her pussy, her hand increasing in tempo as her breathing increased and the moaning got louder. Andrew stepped inside the bathroom quietly and kneeled down beside the bath. He slipped his hand into the water above Beth’s pussy and lowered it on to her hand. “Here, let me help you with that”, he said….
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RHP User
9 years ago
Pluck the Fruit and Taste the Pleasure Plucke the fruite and tast the pleasureYouthfull Lordings of delight,Whil'st occasion giues you seasure,Feede your fancies and your sight:After death when you are gone,Joy and pleasure is there none. Here on earth nothing is stable,Fortunes changes well are knowne,Whil'st as youth doth then enable,Let your seeds of ioy be sowne:After death when you are gone,Ioy and pleasure is there none. Feast it freely with your louers,Blyth and wanton sweetes do fade,Whilst that louely Cupid houersRound about this louely shade:Sport it freely one to one,After death is pleasure none. Now the pleasant spring allureth,And both place and time inuites:But alas, what heart endurethTo disclaime his sweete delightes?After death when we are gone,Joy and pleasure is there none. Robert, Second Duke of Normandy, 1591
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RHP User
9 years ago
As you'd all realise, centuries ago spelling in English language was not what it is today. Education was not as widespread as it is today, and it seems there was broad variation in standards. There are some useful things to know when reading old texts. For example amongst others, it likely would help readers to understand it was commonplace to use 'u' in place of 'v', and 'i' in place of 'j'. (Not quite "Euro-English" such as one of my joke posts from the archive, but...)
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RHP User
9 years ago
How refreshing,a well written erotic story ..😘Q
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RHP User
9 years ago
The motor was a ’73… PeculiarPropaedeuticPtyalism SuggestsPrognathicPecuniaryPeccaryProlocutorProffers SeemingPaucity ofPawkyPatter. SuchRecrementalRhetoric andRechauffe Subject toRifacimento UnderRadicleRecontre CouldRue andRemonstrate byRescription for its ownRecreationalReward andRespite as Katydid If an Imprescriptible Impressario with Idle Time. How’s that motor sound? I think I’ll need a little bit of help from an adapter kit,then maybe a tune... How’s about “Fat guys in Suits” by Red Ink?
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RHP User
9 years ago
The above alliteration is not meant to appear as it does. I'm finding the formatting capacity of this site's forum mighty frustrating. The ability to edit one's own posts would be a major leap forward for this site. I wonder whether that might ever occur. I know it has been mentioned many times.
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RHP User
9 years ago
I thought the formatting looked pretty good, and I have said this many times before but it bears repeating. Try saving it in your templates first, they use the same formatting as the forum, so you'll see exactly what it will look like. I don't see editing becoming something we'll see any time soon if RHP posts in the past are anything to go by. Peachy xo
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RHP User
9 years ago
I thought the formatting looked pretty good, and I have said this many times before but it bears repeating. Try saving it in your templates first, they use the same formatting as the forum, so you'll see exactly what it will look like. I don't see editing becoming something we'll see any time soon if RHP posts in the past are anything to go by. Peachy xo
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RHP User
9 years ago
Song Written at Sea, in the First Dutch War (1665), the night before an Engagement. To all you ladies now at landWe men at sea indite;But first would have you understandHow hard it is to write:The Muses now, and Neptune too,We must implore to write to you-With a fa, la, la, la, la. For though the Muses should prove kind,And fill our empty brain,Yet if rough Neptune rouse the windTo wave the azure main,Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,Roll up and down our ships at sea-With a fa, la, la, la, la. Then if we write not by each post,Think not we are unkind;Nor yet conclude our ships are lostBy Dutchmen or by wind:Our tears we'll send a speedier way,The tide shall bring them twice a day-With a fa, la, la, la, la. The King with wonder and surpriseWill swear the seas grow bold,Because the tides will higher riseThan e'er they did of old:But let him know it is our tearsBring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs-With a fa, la, la, la, la. Should foggy Opdam chance to knowOur sad and dismal story,The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,And quit their fort at Goree:For what resistance can they findFrom men who've left their hearts behind?-With a fa, la, la, la, la. Let wind and weather do its worst,Be you to us but kind;Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,No sorrow we shall find:'Tis then no matter how things go,Or who's our friend, or who's our foe-With a fa, la, la, la, la. To pass our tedious hours awayWe throw a merry main,Or else at serious ombre play;But why should we in vainEach other's ruin thus pursue?We were undone when we left you-With a fa, la, la, la, la. But now our fears tempestuous growAnd cast our hopes away;Whilst you, regardless of our woe,Sit careless at a play:Perhaps permit some happier manTo kiss your hand, or flirt your fan-With a fa, la, la, la, la. When any mournful tune you hear,That dies in every noteAs if it sigh'd with each man's careFor being so remote,Think then how often love we've madeTo you, when all those tunes were play'd-With a fa, la, la, la, la. In justice you cannot refuseTo think of our distress,When we for hopes of honour loseOur certain happiness:All those designs are but to proveOurselves more worthy of your love-With a fa, la, la, la, la. And now we've told you all our loves,And likewise all our fears,In hopes this declaration movesSome pity for our tears:Let's hear of no inconstancy-We have too much of that at sea-With a fa, la, la, la, la.
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RHP User
9 years ago
A few days ago, I happened across "Kit-cat" in one of my old dictionaries. This led me to some reading about this once famous (some might say infamous) group of men. The above song by Charles Sackville (and work of others in that group) is contained in another book (a collection of English Poetry) I have on my shelf. I have had that book for many years, and whilst I have read many of those works previously, I have not read much of the authors of these works. Some of it makes for quite interesting reading and a welcome break from formal study on a cold rainy night.
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RHP User
9 years ago
The Boastful Crow and the Laughing Jack Were telling tales of the outer back: "I've just been travelling far and wide, At the back of Bourke and the Queensland side; There isn't a bird in the bush can go As far as me," said the old black crow. "There isn't a bird in the bush can fly A course as straight or a course as high. Higher than human eyesight goes. There's sometimes clouds -- but there's always crows, Drifting along for a scent of blood Or a smell of smoke or a sign of flood. For never a bird or a beast has been With a sight as strong or a scent as keen. At fires and floods I'm the first about, For then the lizards and mice run out: And I make my swoop -- and that's all they know -- I'm a whale on mice," said the Boastful Crow. The Bee-birds over the homestead flew And told each other the long day through "The cold has come, we must take the track." "Now, I'll make you a bet," said the Laughing Jack, "Of a hundred mice, that you dare not go With the little Bee-birds, by Boastful Crow." Said the Boastful Crow, "I could take my ease And fly with little green birds like these. If they went flat out and they did their best I could have a smoke and could take a rest." And he asked of the Bee-birds circling round: "Now, where do you spike-tails think you're bound?" "We leave tonight, and out present plan is to go straight on till we reach Japan. "Every year, on the self-same day, We call our children and start away, Twittering, travelling day and night, Over the ocean we take our flight; And we rest a day on some lonely isles Or we beg a ride for a hundred miles On a steamer's deck,* and away we go: We hope you'll come with us, Mister Crow." But the old black crow was extremely sad. Said he: "I reckon you're raving mad To talk of travelling night and day, And how in the world do you find your way?" And the Bee-birds answered him, "If you please, That's one of our own great mysteries". ***** Now these things chanced in the long ago And explain the fact, which no doubt you know, That every jackass high and low Will always laugh when he sees a crow. Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson, CBE
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RHP User
9 years ago
containing advice in the form of a quote useful for dealings with some of the personalities to be found within the forum: "It takes the tact of a diplomat, the nerve of a trapeze performer, the physical strength of a prize fighter, the optimism of William J. Bryan or of Pollyanna and the wisdom of Solomon." - The Book of Business Etiquette. Nella Henney, 1922. Obviously, whilst not this is not a business forum, I might have thought many participants might be involved in a business in some capacity (either employer or employee). Perhaps I was mistaken. Certainly, given the attitude and tone of some posters, I think business owners/operators, managers and customers alike might harbour concerns for the standards of communication, negotiation skills and customer service on offer in their enterprises. The repeated insistence (or perception) of some individuals that interactions via the internet are not real life, is no more correct than to suggest that communicating with someone by telephone is not real life. These are merely different communication devices/media...
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RHP User
9 years ago
titled "Monomaths vs Polymaths: Tribal Warfare Over the Future" published 05NOV13 by "al fin next level". (Available by simple search by title).
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RHP User
9 years ago
"Monomaths, Polymaths and Genius" by Joe Dolce 27AUG16. (Yes, that is the Joe Dolce of the famous song "Shaddap You Face"). Article also available online.
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RHP User
9 years ago
There's been news of a welfare drug test; Behaviour that many detest. If you think that is rough, Have you thought enough Of Duterte's Philippines mess?
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RHP User
9 years ago
How much would you pay to care For problems that cost everywhere? Whatever you do Will cost a razoo - Beware lest the cupboard goes bare!
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RHP User
9 years ago
There's some stuff that's gotta be done. The taxpayer's under the gun. What would you stop If you were on top - The suffering, the waste, or the fun?
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RHP User
9 years ago
What are reas'nable expenses For the prayers religion dispenses? Subtract if you will From that great bill The costs of their many offences!
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RHP User
9 years ago
What would it cost do you think To lose all the newspaper ink? How would you tell If it all went to hell? Would it be by the sight or the stink?
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RHP User
9 years ago
Online she ordered a hautboy; Expecting a sweet young toyboy. She did little know, He was an 'obo; And not of the woodwind variety.
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RHP User
9 years ago
Another computer hack; More corporate screens go black. Now who could it be? Dunno - it beats me - Look to someone with the knack!
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RHP User
9 years ago
Now what if they hit Facebook? Where would society look? If a trophy they wish For catching big fish, They'll need a rather large hook!
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RHP User
9 years ago
The shonks in business and finance Engaged in fantastic romance, Via fable and myth They advertise with Leave vulnerable without any pants!
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RHP User
9 years ago
Unconscionable conduct rewarded; Their clients' assets marauded. The cost for a loan? More than they own. Could it be they were defrauded?
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RHP User
9 years ago
Quoting 'ontology' Unconscionable conduct rewarded; Their clients' assets marauded. The cost for a loan? More than they own. Could it be they were defrauded? Bankwest
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RHP User
9 years ago
Here's a poem I wrote in 2012, at this stage I'd been around the traps of dating sites and had sorta worked things out. What do I want?How do I feel ?Is this what I want ?Is this how I feel ?Beautiful big boobies.Couples with toys.And big well hung toy boys who also like boys.Smiles full of promice.And scowls of contempt.The profiles march by and tempt and tempt and tempt.I'm only eighteen will you be my Dad.I'll piss on your face, please spank me, I'm bad.And then there's the one who's just looking at you.you message and wait and wait for your cue.A message ! An answer, the mouse is too slow, open you bastard, Oh please don't say NO !Oh fuck she likes me ! She'a laughing and keen. Should I play a bit coy or just vent my spleen.The world doesn't exist for the next couple of days, the emails and texts spear in through the haze.And the meeting, first glance, the hug, the smiles, the party in my pants !Her smell is alluring her smile disarms, the warmth in her loins is calling my glans.Leaving is hard, her eyes how they beckon, she want's me again, should I stay ? Do you reckon ?Home alone, with only the memory, of her whispers, caresses and awesome firm mammories !Turn on the computer, log on to the site, Oh fuck she's online, perusing the pages, oh shit, okay. She's been on for ages.NEXT !RR
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RHP User
9 years ago
I had in mind the news story last night concerning Barclay Finance and loans now under investigation. I agree that is not the only firm that warrants closer scrutiny... Welcoming 'rithmetic label, Virtuous image a fable. Misled about ASIC. Reneged on a cheque. Funds seven years beyond payable. Vast sums for sponsorship hype, Service only of the lip type. Watch your cash burn, Calls not returned. I view them now as an arse-wipe.
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RHP User
8 years ago
“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly; “’Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many pretty things to show when you are there.” “O no, no,” said the little fly, “to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.” “I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly. “There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in.” “O no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.” Said the cunning spider to the fly, “Dear friend, what shall I do, To prove the warm affection I’ve always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that’s nice; I’m sure you’re very welcome; will you please to take a slice?” “O no, no,” said the little fly, “kind sir, that cannot be; I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see.” “Sweet creature!” said the spider, “You’re witty and you’re wise! How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf, If you’ll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.” “I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you’re pleased to say, And bidding you good-morning now, I’ll call another day.” The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again: So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the fly. Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing “Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing: Your robes are green and purple; there’s a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead.” Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly, Hearing his wily flattering words, came slowly flitting by. With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue; Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast. He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den, Within his little parlor; but she ne’er came out again! And now, dear little children, who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed; Unto an evil counselor close heart, and ear, and eye, And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly. by Mary Howitt (1799-1888)
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RHP User
8 years ago
Well I guess now President Xi Will be filled with good cheer and glee, Though unlikely to gloat The outcome of the vote; Increased control of his country.
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RHP User
8 years ago
A poem written by C.P. Cavafy in 1904 titled 'Waiting for the Barbarians' served as inspiration to J.M. Coetzee for his1980 novel of the same name (both of which I've read over the past couple of days).
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