NEW POETRY COMMUNITY... better than greatpoets!!

theysaid

check it out now, my funk/soul brothers!!

Game over.
Congratulations.
Learn anything?
That's right...
I make a lot of coding istakes.

Well, let me break it down for you:

You have a total of 48 friends
You requested to guess 48 entries.
9 were skipped due to invalid content (surprising?).
You made 40 guesses.
You got 0 correct.
Doing the math for you, that means you got 0% correct

Stupid test.

**FILTERED SO THAT MARY MITFORD CANNOT READ IT**

I have created a filter list so that I can post entries that everyone except Mary Mitford can read. I am beginning to fall in love with robert_browning and I wish to be able to write about it in my journal without fear of her scathing comments.

Her opinion of him is not based on anything and I am getting increasingly irritated with her. I am glad I did not listen to what she said about him. She is just bitter because she is really in love with me and she doesn't want me to fall in love with him.

If you are reading this entry, it is because you are on my list of 'trusted' friends :)

From my biography:

"Elizabeth had long admired Robert Browning's poetry, but far from uncritically: 'Much I wish away - impotent attempts at humour - the vain jangling with rhymes...'

Miss Mitford had first encountered Robert Browning at a dinner party in May 1836, the day before Kenyon introduced her to Elizabeth, and seems never to have taken to him. Her acerbic comment, when she heard of the Brownings' marriage was, 'a strange sort of person to carry such a person as Elizabeth Barrett off her feet.' She was downright rude about his appearance, although she had met him only once before: 'He seemed to me about the height and size of a boy of twelve years old - Femmelette [feminine] - is a word made for him.'"

*dies laughing*

Also, it is true that he was a pain in the neck. He tried to get me to stop taking morphine - whatEVER! He tried to compare how he felt about me to how I felt about taking morphine! "How do you suppose I feel without my proper quantity of morphine? May I call you my morphine?" he asked me once!

I soon put him straight, though. "I may not be your morphine, even if I shall be your Ba [the pet name that all the men who loved me called me]."

Men!

I have changed my name to 'Poet Laureate of Hope End.' When I was growing up, we lived in a house called Hope End. When I was only six I wrote such a wonderful poem that my father tenderly named me the 'Poet Laureate of Hope End' :)

From my biography:

"George Hunter was greatly attracted to Elizabeth. She was stimulating, widely read and well informed, with wit and charm. He was in full agreement with Miss Mitford that she was 'one of the most interesting persons I had ever seen...a slight delicate figure and shower of dark curls falling over either side of a most expressive face, large tender eyes, richly fringed by dark eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam and such a look of youthfulness...' And in those days she was 'alive to the vanities of costume' and liked to dress in 'very simple but graceful and costly dresses, her favourite colour being green.' No wonder, when such a woman 'bent those big dark eyes' at him and interested herself in his life, that he fell deeply in love."

*smiles coyly*

*sigh*

I'm so depressed lately.

I don't feel like I can update my own journal... it's difficult to log in as myself.

I can handle using my fake account, louisamayalcott, but I feel so uninspired when I use my real one.

I need a vacation.

 
The greatpoets community gets filled up with mediocre contemporary poetry, and yet I'm the one that gets banned from posting in it? There is no justice in the world.

Liz B

( The Random Question Meme! )

Welcome back EmD-MC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am so glad my husband didn't kill you after all!!!

I was only pretending to go along with anne_bradstreet!!! (I hate that bitch, truth be told!)

Who the fuck is cutfever103 and why is she so desperate to befriend me?? Of course, I am quite possibly the world's greatest poet - some might say second greatest, after t_s_eliot_, which was actually a pseudonym of mine.

Is that why you added me??

I hope we will be good friends - I have an endless depth of wisdom and advice, especially relating to the writing of poetry, that I can pass on to you, if you wish.

But first - who the fuck are you?

i MaDe SoMe ChAnGeS 2 mY jOuRnAl To ReFlEcT tHe MiSeRy I fEeL iNsIdE... sOrRy If My EmOtIoNs ArE 2 rAw 4 U 2 dEaL wItH bUt ThAt'S jUsT hOw I fEeL sO dEaL wItH iT!!!

Strong Enough by Sheryl Crow

God, I feel like hell tonight
Tears of rage I cannot fight
I’d be the last to help you understand
Are you strong enough to be my man?

Nothing’s true and nothing’s right
So let me be alone tonight
Cause you can’t change the way I am
Are you strong enough to be my man?

Lie to me
I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leave

I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
Just try and love me if you can
Are you strong enough to be my man?

When I’ve shown you that I just don’t care
When I’m throwing punches in the air
When I’m broken down and I can’t stand
Will you be strong enough to be my man?

Lie to me
I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leave

Unlike some people, my husband wrote love poems about me.

Meeting at Night - Robert Browning

The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
 

Take the quiz: "what r u going to look like when u die *pics*"

you look like your dead
well you dead thats all that matters isnt it but hey adleast you look kinda kool

XV
 
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine
With the same sunlight on our brow and hair.
On me thou lookest with no doubting care,
As on a bee in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so. But I look on thee--on thee--
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing oblivion beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.