?

Log in

No account? Create an account

wordsofonebeat

A note of a move

Apr. 29th, 2006 | 12:06 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

Just a quick note that the One Beat Book of Verse has moved to http://www.larryhammer.com/wordsofonebeat/1beat.html.

      My old host
      Gave up the ghost
So I had to move it all:
      To a place just the same
      But now has my name
In the link by which you call.

---L.

link | Leave a comment |

wordsofonebeat

They flee from him

Jan. 26th, 2006 | 01:52 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

They flee from me that one time did me seek,
With foot not shod, and stalked on in my flat.
I have seen them mild, and tame, and meek,
That now are wild and now have lost the thought
That one time they did place their selves in threat
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
And spend all of their time to seek out change.

Thanked be my luck it hath been not this wise
A score of times more good; and once most of all,
In thin night clothes in some fair guise,
When her loose gown thus from her arms did fall,
And she caught me in her arms long and small;
And then so sweet she did me kiss
And soft said, "Dear heart, how like you this?"

It was no dream: I lay with eyes not closed.
But all is turned, from the ways of the high and mild
To some strange fad of where one loves then goes;
I've leave to go, out of her heart's own good,
And she too, gets to use this days' new mode.
But since I have been served so true
I would fain know what she hath due.


A song by Sir Tom Watt.

---L.

link | Leave a comment {2} |

wordsofonebeat

He doth say Nay a bit much

Jan. 19th, 2006 | 02:38 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part,
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus with clean hands I can get me free.
Shake hands for all time, make null all our vows,
And when we meet at some time hence once more
Be it not seen in yours or in my brows
That we one jot of our old love have stored.
Now at the last gasp of Love's most faint breath,
When, as his pulse fails, High Thoughts sans speech lies,
When Faith has knelt down by his bed of death,
And now the Pure One shuts by hand his eyes --
    Now, if you would, when all think he is wracked,
    From death to life you may yet bring him back.


The source is here.

link | Leave a comment {6} |

wordsofonebeat

Words of one beat in real life

Jan. 13th, 2006 | 03:38 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

Check out the first game here. Face to face! Now that's hard.

---L.

link | Leave a comment {5} |

wordsofonebeat

Donne goes to bed (he hopes)

Jan. 12th, 2006 | 02:09 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

To His Girl, to Come to Bed
John Donne

    Come, my Miss come -- for rest my strength does sigh;
Till I do strive, do I in strife so lie.
The foe too oft, once foe has come in sight,
Stands to, and so tires though he does not fight.
Off with that belt, that like the sky's own zone glints,
Though a world that's far more fair is held in it.
Lose that bright plate that on your breast you wear,
That the eyes of poke-nose fools may be stopped there.
Loose your ties, for that watch you wear now chimes,
Tells me from you that now it is bed time.
Off with that busk whose joy I, green glared, eye,
That it still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown as it goes off, such sweet state shows
As when from the mead's blooms the hill's shade goes.
Off with that band worn on your brow and show
The crown of hair which bright on you doth grow;
Now off with those shoes, and then with no fear tread
In this, a church love's blessed, this soft bed.
In such white robes, God's own folk used to be
Met by men -- thou, girl of God, bringst with thee
God's realm like the Turk's bless'd state; and though
Ill things do walk in white, yet we can know
By this the folks of God from evil sprites:
Those make our hairs, but these our flesh, stand high.
    Give leave to hands to rove, and let them go
In front, in back, in there, on top, and down.
O my New World! my new found land,
My realm, most safe when with one man manned,
My mine of rich cut stones, my King's hold free,
How blest am I in this my trip to thee!
To come in these my bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
    O full nude state! All joys are due to thee;
As soul from flesh, the flesh from clothes must be
To taste whole joys. Those gems that you dames use
Are like the balls of she who raced, in men's views
Cast, so that when some fool's eye sees a gem,
His base bourn soul may lust for theirs, not them.
Like bright paints, or like books' gay front boards made
For lay men, are all dames in such state stayed;
Their selves are books of faith, and it's just we
(Whom their grace, so called, will make us free)
Must see laid bare. Then since, that I may know,
As full free as to a birth room show
Thy self: cast all, yes too this white shift hence;
There is no sin's due for those pure in sense.
    To teach thee, I am nude first; why then,
What needst thou have more on thee than a man?


The true point of verse, just as most things we build and make, is to get in the pants of the one you love (or lust for). I like verse that waves its goal like a proud flag.

---L.

link | Leave a comment {3} |

wordsofonebeat

Mod notes

Jan. 9th, 2006 | 01:39 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

Two things:

1. I think I've caught up the One Beat Book of Verse -- all but this one, I think. If I missed a post you want me to add, drop a note here, with a link to the thing. I'll cry "my bad!" and toss it in.

2. I've tweaked the Oft Asked Things with a few points. Let me know what you think, and if you want it to say more or less.


          Little Miss Muft
          Sits on a tuft
To eat some curds and whey.
          But then came a bug
          Who sat on her rug
And scared the poor girl -- please stay!

---L.

link | Leave a comment {8} |

wordsofonebeat

"Let me not let true minds not be wed"

Jan. 9th, 2006 | 01:02 pm
posted by: lnhammer in wordsofonebeat

No posts for a while. My bad, but I've been banked up with a verse that's, well, quite hard. So in lieu of that, an old one of mine, by Will the Bard. It's pome five-score, ten, and six.


Let me not let true minds not be wed.
Love is not love which makes a change when it
Finds there's a change by which it could be led,
Or bends with he who would get rid of it:
O no! it is a fixed for all time sign
That looks at storms but will not shake in fright;
It is the star to ships that sail the brine,
Whose worth's not known, though they can take his height.
Love's not Time's fool, though red lips and pink cheeks
In the round reach of his bent scythe have come:
Love does not change with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears out all the way to the edge of doom.
    If this is just plain wrong and to me proved,
    I did not write, nor has a man quite loved.


---L.

link | Leave a comment {1} |

wordsofonebeat

auld lang syne

Jan. 1st, 2006 | 09:20 pm
mood: sigh for time gone by
tunes: slow and with heart
posted by: kip_w in wordsofonebeat

Should old friends drop from out our thoughts
And not be brought to mind?
Should old friends drop from out our thoughts
and days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
for auld lang syne.

And sure now ye'll be in your cups!
And sure I'll be in mine!
And we'll take a cup o' heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne.

We two have run all through the hills,
And pulled the wild blooms fine;
But we've trod miles on worn-out feet,
Since auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne.

We two have swum wild in the burn,
From morn 'til time to dine;
But seas twixt us so broad have roared
Since auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne.

And here's a hand, my heart's good friend
Give me a hand of thine
We'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet
For auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne.

Should our old friends drop from our thoughts
And slip out from our mind?
Should our old friends drop from our thoughts
and days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of heart's warmth yet,
For auld lang syne!


Trad, and Rob Burns -- big thanks to the linked site for help wi' the words that threw me off. You up to date sorts could take out "auld lang syne" and put in "time gone by," but I won't sing it that way.

link | Leave a comment |

wordsofonebeat

blues in the night

Dec. 31st, 2005 | 10:45 pm
mood: sweet & low
tunes: the TV
posted by: kip_w in wordsofonebeat

.
My ma, she done tol’ me,
When I was in knee pants
My ma, she done tol’ me,
Son,
A dame will make sweet talk
And give ya the big eye,
But when the sweet talk is done
A dame is a two face,
A heck of a thing who’ll
Leave ya to sing
The blues in the night

Now the rain it falls down,
Hear the ol' train’s sad sound
Whoo hoo!
(My ma she done tol’ me)
Hear dat sad ol' toot go
Chill you to the root, oh
Whoo hoo!
(My ma she done tol’ me)
A whoo hoo, a whoo hoo,
A click and a clack,
The sound will come back
Th' blues in the night.

The chill night breeze will start
The trees to sob out
And the moon 'ull hide its light
When you get the blues
In the night,
Take my word, that home sick bird
'Ull sing a sad, sweet kind o' song
He knows things are wrong,
And he’s right.

From Plains down to Gulf Breeze
From St. Lou to St. Joe
All spots where the four winds blow
I been in some big towns
An’ heard me some big talk,
But there is one thing I know

A dame is a two face,
A heck of a thing who’ll
Leave ya to sing
The blues in the night

My ma, she was right, there’s blues in the night!


by John & Hal
(I did this some years back, but I think I did it right this time.)
.

link | Leave a comment {3} |

wordsofonebeat

a tale of how st. nick came to call

Dec. 29th, 2005 | 10:15 pm
posted by: kip_w in wordsofonebeat

.
'Twas the last night ere Yule day and all through the house
Not one live thing stirred, not so much as a mouse.
The kids' socks were hung o'er the fire with much care
With the hope that quite soon old St. Nick would be there.

The wee ones all slept snug and tight in their beds
While dreams of sweet treats sang and danced in their heads;
So Ma put her scarf on, and I donned my cap
And we lay in bed for a long, well-earned nap.

When out on the lawn came a crash and a quake
And I leapt to my feet to see what made me wake.
Straight to the sill my feet flew like a flash,
I flung wide the drapes and I threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new coat of snow
Gave things on the ground such a bright mid-day glow
When, to my eyes, full of awe, what should be near
But a wee sleigh pulled on by four pairs of small deer

All drove by a wee man, so old, bright and quick
I knew in a tick it just must be St. Nick.
As quick as eight swifts this strange team of beasts came.
With a tweet! and a shout he called to them by name

"Now Dance Girl! Now Minx! And now Sweet Boy and Dash!
On Star Trail! On Love's Dart! On Big Boom and Flash!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now zoom off and boom off and on your way all!"

As leaves that in front of the wild wind all fly
When they meet with a wall, they mount up to the sky,
So up to the house top the sled deer they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and with old St. Nick too.

And then, in a flash, I could hear on the roof
The taps and the scrapes that were made by each hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and I turned my head round
Down the flue came old St. Nick with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all grimed with gray ash and black soot;
A bag full of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a man who sold toys from his pack.

His eyes -- how their light shone! his smile was so bright!
His cheek like a rose, and his nose like a light!
His droll mouth was drawn up and curved like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke of it wrapped round his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a gut like a ham
That shook, when he laughed like a bowl full of jam.

He was round and quite plump, full of fun as a boy
And I laughed when I saw him how he quaked in his joy.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know that I had naught to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the socks up; then turned with a jerk,
And lay his right hand to the side of his nose,
And with one last nod, up the flue St. Nick rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a tweet
And off they all sped through the night air, so fleet
And the last thing he said as he flew from my sight
Was "A glad Yule to all, and to all a good night!"


By Hank L (Doc L, I dare say?), not Clem C. Moore
Might need work, 'cause jam don't shake, right? Might need some help -- I don't know.
A late gift... one more nut to roast by the fire.
.

link | Leave a comment {2} |