Pineneedle's Poetry Slam: att'n. RebelRescuer

[pineneedle]

My Dear RebelRescuer (and other assorted erswhile poets),

I want to pursue your post under the "Life" thread. You say there that you don't know what a quatrain is, and then compose a dandy. Your litte poem is both clever and skillful. But I was particularly surprised at the speed with which you cobbled it together.

So, this is an idea that deserves to be chased for a while. That is why I am starting a new thread rather than highjacking the "Life" thread. My assignment to anyone who wants to get into this poetry slam is this: write a Double Dactyl. I am including several as examples for the general cultural edification of the list. RR, I expect you to lead the way with another brilliant assay into the magical world of poetry. I am sure that many of the savants on the list will follow your lead and send along their own brilliant creations.

What is Double Dactyl? Is is a satiric form composed of eight lines, divided into two four-line stanzas. The subject is usually some current well-known figure or some current celebrated event. (Don't be discouraged; please read on.)

All eight lines must be composed of dactyls (except for the fourth and the eighth (I will explain the 4th-8th exception later). A dactyl is a poetic "measure" that has three beats, with the stress on the first beat. So, a line would look like this:/-- /--, where / indicates a stress and - indicates an unstressed syllable. So, a line might read: "Why don't you go to Hell?" Notice that when you read that line, you stress "Why" and "go" and the other syllables are unstressed.

The first line of the first stanza must be nonsense, e.g., "Higgledy-piggledy" (notice, two dactyls). Finally, the fourth and the eighth lines should consist of one dactyl and a spondee. A spondee is a single unstressed syllable. These two spondees (end sounds of the fourth and eighth lines) should rhyme.

I know, I know. This sounds like a bunch of gobbledy gook. Please consider these examples where the rules will be obvious:


All wrist off, still pissed off
Vice President Al Gore,
Travels the talk circuit,
Oh, Lordy, Lord!

But if you watch him he
Moves like a wind-up doll.
Ease up, Al, Mercy! You're
Stiff as a board!

or,

Oh, Oui, Oui, Can't you see
President Jacques Chirac
Feigns outrage when we won't
Buy his French wine.

But we Americans
Hasten to tell him to
Put all his frog-talk where
The sun don't shine.

or,

Democrat, Smemocrat,
Senator Hillary
Told it all, sold it all,
Exquisite joy!

Finally everyone,
Even old Rush Limbaugh,
Knows what a darling is
Her Billy Boy.

or,

Higgledy-piggledy
Ludwig Von Beethoven
Bored by requests for some
Music to hum.

Finally answered with
Oversimplicity,
"Here's my Fifth Symphony:
Duh, duh, duh, DUM!"


You get the idea. Let the good poems roll!

Pineneedle

[TheCopperCowboy]

I want what he's smoking! :smokin:

[RebelRescuer]

Pineneedle, this sounds like fun!!

Honestly, I've always written A LOT. I had a humor column in Bandimere's paper for years (circ. 25,000) and used to have a sideline writing speeces for people. Of course, I love poetry, but don't have any formal training. In other words, I just watched the "formula" in what you described as a quatrain and went from there. Its all numbers, baby!!

This is the pattern I'm getting from your examples...let me know if it makes sense to you.

6 A
6 B
6 C
4 D

6 E
6 F
6 G
4 D

:D

[RebelRescuer]

Here you go!!!

Pineneedle challenges
Me to a writing test
He is too smart for me
I can?t say no.

I count off the numbers
And watch for the rhyming
Its all in the patterns
Easy to know!

[pineneedle]

My Dear Melissa,

You have the pattern exactly right. The only trick is to make the stresses fall on the first and fourth syllables (except for lines 4 and 8, which have the single unstressed syllable at the end. So, just put in the words and let 'er rip!

Pineneedle

[RebelRescuer]

My Dear Melissa,

You have the pattern exactly right. The only trick is to make the stresses fall on the first and fourth syllables (except for lines 4 and 8, which have the single unstressed syllable at the end. So, just put in the words and let 'er rip!

Pineneedle


Ok, this is trickier than I thought!!

(Can't we do limericks instead?!?!) :D

Gimme a sec...

[pineneedle]

Damn, excellent! May I make a couple of small suggestions to make it perfect? Your first stanza is great except for the first line which has to be nonsensical.

Maybe,

Pineneedle, schmineedle
Challenges me to write
ect.

and,

I count the numbers off
And watch for rhyming words.
It's in the patterns, Dude,
Easy to know!

Pineneedle

Or something like that. Make sure that the meter is exact and you have mastered the trick.

Pineneedle

[RebelRescuer]

Crappola this is tough!
My head is swimming now
Shouldn?t this be simple?
Need a beer now.

No idea just yet!
If this is right or not
Its harder than it seems
And wrong I fear!

[RebelRescuer]

There once was a man named Pine
He worked well with rhythm and rhyme
A very learned man
With a legion of fans
And a wonderful use for free time!

[pineneedle]

How do you do this so quickly? This one is excellent as well. Here are a couple of suggestions to bring everything into form.

line 4: "I need a beer!" in order to rhyme with "fear."

line 5: "I've no idea just yet" in order to get the meter
right

Voila! perfect!

[RebelRescuer]

How do you do this so quickly? This one is excellent as well. Here are a couple of suggestions to bring everything into form.

line 4: "I need a beer!" in order to rhyme with "fear."

line 5: "I've no idea just yet" in order to get the meter
right

Voila! perfect!

I realized it and just tried to fix it! Proofreading is apparently lost on me.

[RebelRescuer]

So now what shall we work on?!?!

[pineneedle]

My Dear Friends,

Midnight ln St. Louis. Time for codgers to hit the sack. Eight o'clock class tomorrow morning. May God keep you all safe through the night.

Pineneedle

[RebelRescuer]

Goodnight!

Maybe tomorrow will bring a limerick slam in honor of the upcoming St Patty's Day!

[Budman]

Stay the patient course
of little worth is your ire
the network is down.


I have no idea what catagory this fits into, but I wrote it years ago while working as a network admin.

[RebelRescuer]

Pineneedle--here's a little Villanelle I whipped up for you. :) I haven't written poetry in a LONG time, so go easy on me!


Noting sorrow of Fate?s sinister ways
Staring o?er a pool on the eve of the mass
She lifts her tearstained veil and mourns the days

That sweetest freedom lost with his wrenching gaze
And drawing the fate by the clocks ticking pass
Noting sorrow of Fate?s sinister ways

The saints hath not dealt her the fairest of pays
Her life no foray in summertime grass
She lifts her tearstained veil and mourns the days

A bouquet of weeds, dark eyes glance her way
Arms that once held her, now cradle a liquor glass
Noting sorrow of Fate?s sinister ways

He shall not shine upon her today, like heavenly rays
As once he did, not so distantly in their past
She lifts her tearstained veil and mourns the days

Her Fate was sealed by congratulatory haze
A band of gold, a tumbled heart of pale sea glass
Noting sorrow of Fate?s sinister ways
She lifts her tearstained veil and mourns the day.
~Reb~

[theirishavenger]

^^^^ I thought that rocked.


I'd bring my own to the table, but it's all at home and no chance to compose here at work....maybe later.


Avenger.

[RebelRescuer]

^^^^ I thought that rocked.


I'd bring my own to the table, but it's all at home and no chance to compose here at work....maybe later.


Avenger.

Yeah, if you get around to it later, give us some!!

[Oscar]

Makes my head hurt

[LONEWOLF]

Just thought this up.

King of the Hill

Climbing slowly to the top
Obstacles in the way
The hill is trying hard to stop
The way in which I play

First a dip, then a rock
They are traps in the clay
So the diffs I have to lock
To make it all the way

Who will win, me or the hill
On this muddy day
No matter who it is, its still
A thrill I have to say

To go around, cannot be said
Can't find a different way
The trail is straight ahead
And the trail, I have to stay

[RebelRescuer]

Oh good job!! You rock!!!

[CherryokeeXJ]

I write, but I don't think much of mine is welcome in this category. I don't really follow rules when I compose, or try to follow one style in particular. If you switch off to free writing let me know and I'll contribute.

[Oscar]

Looks like beatnik's are returning

[pineneedle]

My Dear Friends,

I am just checking the board after my 11:00 class, and, lo and behold, a mess of fine poems! Really, all of these are very fine. I am impressed.

Melissa, a.k.a., Smarty Pants, so you jump right from a couple of quatrains to a villanelle! O.K. When I check back in tonight, I want to see a sestina by you. Just google up "sestina" for the basic structure. Then, google up Elizabeth Bishop and check out her poem, "Sestina." By the way, where is CherokeeXJ? I expected to see her in here by now.

Pineneedle

[CherryokeeXJ]

Armor
By:Me

There you play upon the carpet,
With your trucks and all your trains,
You wear a Kool-Aid mustache,
And my kiss still mends your pains,

I don't know who you're going to be,
I'm not sure yet what you'll do,
I wonder just how well my lessons will fair,
Against what this world will put you through,

I see an innocence, a light in you,
That this world so desperately needs,
On the carcass of darkness, lust and hate,
Humanity gnaws and feeds,

It's a sad existence, full of pain,
More tears are born than smiles,
The road of happiness seems so short,
The one of hardship lasts for miles,

My heart bleeds to know this is the world,
I have to offer for your life,
My son, I wish I could do better,
Than this world of greed and strife,

I long to protect you from it,
Embrace you like hammered steel,
Absorb the blows and impact,
Shield the pain they'd have you feel,

Could my strength and love for you,
Act as bricks to build a wall,
To withstand the ugliness of man,
Too pure to breach, too true to fall,

But I know that armor is too heavy,
It'd forbid your wings to lift,
Bricks would act upon you as a cage,
And to fly's the greatest gift,

Oh my son, my sweet sweet baby,
Some day you'll be a man,
It's my job to help you get there,
And I'll do the best I can,

Just remember mama's not perfect,
I've learned a bit along my path,
I hope my wisdom, faith and love,
Help you endure life's pressing wrath,

But for now.....

There you play upon the carpet,
With your trucks and all your trains,
You wear a Kool-Aid mustache,
And my kiss still mends your pains.

Like I said, not exactly fit for this discussion. This is one I wrote most recently at work when I was bored. Sorry...kinda long.

[Steve]

Like I said, not exactly fit for this discussion.

I'm not a big poetry fan, but IMO it's far and away the best of those posted here so far. It obviously came from your heart; that comes through loud and clear. :thumbsup:

[RebelRescuer]

I'm not a big poetry fan, but IMO it's far and away the best of those posted here so far. It obviously came from your heart; that comes through loud and clear. :thumbsup:


I totally agree! There doesn't have to be a certain layout, or a fancy name at all. I ADORE Baxter Black, and gawd knows he isn't a fancy poet!

I think Pineneedle and I are just having fun trying to outwit each other. As for reading and pleasure, I'd take Cherry's poem anyday!

[LONEWOLF]

I wrote this shortly after my father had his heart attack 2 years ago and I read this to him while he was in ICU.

The Greatest Man

The greatest man I've ever known
Worked his fingers to the bone
To provide for a family that he loved
In hopes that they would grow up
To be strong and caring like himself
He would never put his love on a shelf

The greatest man to walk this land
Would always give a helping hand
Just call to him and he would be there
And it really never mattered where
He is never quick to judge what a person might say
He would say "Its your life live it your way"

The greatest man you may not know
But alot of people do and for this they show
Great respect, for he is one of a kind
I thank the Lord that he is mine
He always has a smile on his face
He could tell you the winner before a race

The greatest man there has ever been
Knows how to love, but could raise his hand
To correct us when we had done wrong
To show us the right path and to be strong
He gave us the passion and will to survive
To raise our families and to always strive

To the greatest man I owe my life
For I was born when he took a wife
There is not enough thanks that I can say
But I show my gratitude every day
I hope he knows how much I care
And how much of a bond we will always share

The greatest man
My Father

[RebelRescuer]

The Trapper's Sestina by Reb :)

Spring did come to the great Rockies
And with it the lusty man of the trap
Too many moons alone in camp
Without breath of wind, nor sweet of drink
His eyes narrowed at her first warm sun
Winter stiffened arms unfolded to the sky

No longer a gray and chilling sky
A backdrop of the snow covered rockies
Lit glaringly by the year?s new sun
The spring runoff begging for canoe and trap
And the pilot for company and drink
Soon only memory the wintertime camp

His gear rusty, from winter in camp
He oils it beneath the new warm sky
And dreams of rendezvous? dance and drink
Far away in her Majesty the Rockies
And so he loads rifle and trap
And points the canoe towards the sun

He awakens on a bank, warmed by the sun
And hears the noise of a native camp
Bound and gagged he is a beaver in trap
A prisoner beneath his own spring sky
His downfall the lure of the Rockies
Her cups no longer his to drink

The sun is burning, he needs a drink
The natives howl by moon and sun
The only witnesses, the silent Rockies
To his torture in this springtime camp
He can see nothing but the warm sky
No longer voyager of the fur laden trap

The natives hold him in their trap
As he withers, no food or drink
His days of plundering beneath the sky
Ended with the first spring sun
He longs to be back in his wintertime camp
And away from the traitorous Rockies

And so he was trapped beneath the sky
Never getting that company or rendezvous drink
And to eternity he is sped, beneath the silent Rockies

[Mr. Pink]

check it out
pull 'er in
take a breath
twist a grin

feel the shift
grab the wheel
touch the gas
burp your meal

[CherryokeeXJ]

Wow...thanks everyone. I wasn't expecting that kind of response. I'm kind of blown away. I really appreciate the positive feedback.

We should keep this thread going. I'm thoroughly enjoying everyone's work. There's a lot of creative talent on this board.

[RebelRescuer]

Another Sestina by Reb :)

I hear the hoofbeats in the barn
The hay dust flies from the door
A cackle, a crow, a finch?s song
The metal coffeepot is empty
Tied up boots, I adjust my hat
There?s critters waiting on me now

My city life just a memory now
My office is a dusty barn
An old log cabin is where I hang my hat
A horseshoe hangs above the door
My bank account always stands at empty
But my heart is full of song

I whistle an old Hank Williams song
And shovel stalls out now
The space around silence isn?t always empty
It?s a concert in that old barn
I stop and lean against the door
And wipe the sweat from under my hat

I traded suits for this old hat
And conference calls for song
There is no plaque upon my door
Just a homemade welcome sign now
I commute as far as the corner of the barn
And the parking lot is always empty

Before my life was busy and empty
Stress and rushing were just old hat
But that?s before I found the barn
And the hills lured me with song
I?m a part of them forever now
Like the sign upon the door

When a window closes, so opens a door
Ne?er for long is anything empty
My life is so much fuller now
And so is that dirty old hat
Entranced am I by the swallow?s song
And the sunset on the roof of the barn

Pray a bit, as I take off my hat
And a goodbye to the former empty
Life that I had before I had the barn.

[CherryokeeXJ]

To Us
By: Me


Here's to what we never were,
And here's to what we are,
Here's to all we thought we'd do,
But it was always too damn far,

I reflect back on a time,
When things were cut and clear,
Now through the fog I contemplate,
Why you're not still here,

I suppose that I could pass the blame,
And let you take the fall,
Lie to others and myself,
Wash my conscience of it all,

To tell the truth that seems the path,
That I'd prefer to travel,
But we both know it won't take long,
For that fabric to unravel,

For the cloth we weave today,
Is our blanket for tomorrow,
And when the rains fall down upon my life,
I'll be drenched in lies and sorrow,

So I will carry the heavy burden,
I'll take credit for my part,
I'll swallow the wine of ageless truth,
Though it will slide down stale and tart,

Just raise your glass and toast to mine,
We'll embrace the tears we've cried,
Our ending's red and bittersweet,
We couldn't change but tried.

[RebelRescuer]

Holy cow!! :eek: Girlie, you can sure as hell write!!

Every thought about being a lyricist???

Just wow....:eek: :hail:

[Leon Phelps]

Looks like beatnik's are returning

Total beatniks. :D

[RebelRescuer]

Total beatniks. :D

I looked up "beatnik" and still don't get it. What the heck is it?

[starbreaker666]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beatnik

[RebelRescuer]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beatnik

Yeah I looked at that, and can't quite see myself there. I've never worn a black leotard or smoked pot.

Oh well, next time call me something I can understand. :flipoff2:

[CherryokeeXJ]

Holy cow!! :eek: Girlie, you can sure as hell write!!

Every thought about being a lyricist???

Just wow....:eek: :hail:

LOL. Thanks. I never thought my stuff was shabby, but I also didn't think it'd ever get an :eek:.

I suppose I've convinced myself there isn't much of an audience out there for this type of writing any more. I've tried to write books and the few chapters I get down are great, but then I get angry and frustrated because I can't seem to follow my own story map. That and no "best-seller" ideas have ever come to me. I feel like if I could just nail a great idea I could do it, but my stuff is too jelly spined and fizzles out early on in it's creation.

I like your country theme. It's a comfy read and the imagery is really great. Makes me miss my dad's ranch. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. I drove a beater pickup truck, I looked good in tight jeans, and I rode my horse every day. You and I need to quit talking about how great the country is while I'm still stuck in the damn city. I'm likely to go postal. :)

[theirishavenger]

Ok, here's a few of mine I like and feel fit to share. These are all probably 3 or 4 years old...haven't had much inspiration lately. Never really followed a form or style. It's just what comes out.---Avenger


Winter


Winter, a Nosferatu,
Sucking summer?s blood from my veins,
Creeps up, steals the life from my barbecue,
Garlic is no defense.

Winter, a Sasquatch,
Deep footprints in the snow,
Rough unidentifiable hairs from woolen mittens,
The smell of soot mixed with snow and an eerie howl on the wind.

Winter, silvery and silent,
Moves miles in seconds and abducts the heat.
Leaves strange marks in the grass in the name of Frost,
Makes us see strange things in the sky.

Winter, the Kraken,
Swallows ships whole,
Plies the dark depths of December,
Casts fear in the hearts of snowplow sailors.

Winter, a maligned spirit,
Its chill lingers in hallways,
Drags its chains in the attic of our minds,
Waiting to be exorcised by a priest named Spring.

[theirishavenger]

Liftoff


A countdown commencing,
Ringing in my ears when I sit down here.
Five, four, three?pick up my pen
And dream with me.

With the first few words, we clear the tower,
Riding a pillar of flame and rhyme and not-rhyme,
Thrust up into the sky,
Minds reaching escape velocity.

Our mission is clear.
Achieve orbit and mend a broken heart,
Or bring what harmony you can to this island Earth.
Use this robot arm to put each idea precisely in its place.
Every seventeen minutes we see a new sunrise, and a new smile.
The beam reaching out from each satellite soul
Tells us we?re not alone.

When the day is done, and we?ve taken our requisite star sight,
We?ll close the doors and stow the special tools.
We?ll return to anonymity in a golden faceplate that only reflects what we see,
Strap in and return to Earth on the wings of a last stanza.

[theirishavenger]

Away To Sea


Jeannette Miller, where have you gone?
?To sea, to sea?, might have said she.

Left upon the oceans green,
Sailed away to sea,
Did she.

Upon a regal schooner,
A venerable vessel, the Lizzie B.,
Upon a schooner upon the sea,
Sailed away did she.

No letter home, no communiqu?,
No wireless taps for me from she.
A signal flag, ne?er unfurled,
No Morse, no Marconi, for me.

Upon the storm tossed sea she?ll be,
For many a day in her diary.
Upon a field of frothy gray,
Forevermore she?ll be.

Now weeks to months to years will turn,
And I upon the beach will be.
The tides flow in, the tides flow out,
She fades, she fades, from memory.

[XtremeXJ]

Makes my head hurt


I am with Oscar - This makes my head hurt. I am going to go to bed now.

[pineneedle]

My Dear Fellow Members of the Off-Road Poets' Society,

I just got home and to my computer only to find a feast of poems. To each of you, may I say that I am touched. I am touched that a silly thread that began as a tease has morphed into this lovely garden of verse.

I read all the poems several times over, savoring all the striking language, the images, the cleverness, the beauty. I am humbled. I know that these threads eventually peter out, and this one shall as well, but I hope that it goes on for a while and that others on the list will join in and show us a little piece of their souls.

This is kind of like skinny dipping when I was a kid. Nobody gets to stand by and watch. Everyone has to take off his clothes. So,


TO BARBARA

"Our brief day past, there is for us only
a night of everlasting sleep." Catullus

Tonight, I was awakened just
As the faint stars were fading.
I do not know the reason. It must
Have been the sound cascading

Forth from the woods atop the hill,
A song so clear and slow,
As over and over a whippoorwill
Chanted its tremolo.

My love lay asleep beside me and
Her face in the gray light shone,
And lovely her face and warm her hand
That I held between my own.

Many's the night I've awakened this way,
Yet sometime assuredly,
Whippoorwill song at the edge of day
Will no longer awaken me.

So now with her sleeping next to me,
Her hand is all that matters,
Though the stars should tumble into the sea,
Though the world be torn to tatters.

[pineneedle]

My Dear Fellow Poets,

It seems as if the prediction I made last night is coming true, namely, that this thread is winding down and sliding into oblivion. Before it goes I want to leave you with a couple of ideas.

Those of you who are interested in and serious about writing poetry, take this advice. First, get yourself a copy of The Norton Anthology of Poetry. Be careful because there are many Norton anthologies. You want this exact one. It contains virtually every great poem in the English language, from the 14th Century to the present. It is a veritable feast of delicious reading. The first thing you must do is familiarize yourself with the history of thls wonderful art, know the major poets, and know their major poems. These will be your school, and you will learn much from reading them and analyzing their excellence. Leave this book on your bedside table where you can pick it up at night, let it fall open to any page, and read with profit. There is no short-cut; you will never be a great poet without a knowledge of the history of your art. In addition, this book has an excellent section on prosody (the craft of poetry) where you can learn the specifics of the poet's craft, also a necessity if you intend to write seriously.

You might also acquire The Norton Introduction to Poetry. It does not include nearly so many poems, but it has a richer trove of information about the art and practice of poetry. The best would be to buy both books, but either one is a fine choice. Have a significant other give one to you as a present instead of the usual thoughtless junk that we pass around on celebratory occasions.

I realize that many, or even most, of you will not wish to do this. I completely understand. Not everyone wants to be really serious about playing the piano, or other such demanding disciplines. For those of you of whom this is true, I say write on, enjoy the creative process, and write your poems.

However, I hope that there are several of you who long to write great poems. I am telling you the truth, and I hope you will listen to me. Shakespeare is supposed to have said, "knowledge maketh a bloody entrance." No one can actually find the citation, but it doesn't matter. The point is that excellence demands a steep price of devotion. If you want the former you must pay the latter.

After you have gotten a few poems together that you think are really good, then submit them for publication. There are thousands of small literary magazines that do nothing but publish new poems. There are guides to such magazines that will help you direct your efforts. You will experience a ton of rejection, but remember that even well-known, great writers are regularly rejected. If you stay with the submission process, direct your submissions intelligently, you can succeed. It is deeply satisfying to have someone who knows tell you that your poem is good enough to publish.

Anyway, that is my story and I am sticking with it. I have loved reading your poems, and I hope that you will all take me seriously and POR (press on regardless).

Pineneedle

[Oscar]

Just doesn't have the legs of the fringe does it?

[Leon Phelps]

Just doesn't have the legs of the fringe does it?

Nothing does. When I die, I will have every page of the fringe printed out and put in my casket along with a bottle of Wild Turkey for the ride.

[theirishavenger]

My Dear Pineneedle,

I don't think anyone on this board has impressed me with their sophistication and eloquence as much as you have recently. I intend to take your words to heart and I thank you for your kind words and advice. You are truly a unique asset to these boards and I hope you continue for a long time.


Chris

p.s. Too bad we couldn't have a Writing subforum in here somewhere.

[mikee_357]

My Dear Pineneedle,

I don't think anyone on this board has impressed me with their sophistication and eloquence as much as you have recently. I intend to take your words to heart and I thank you for your kind words and advice. You are truly a unique asset to these boards and I hope you continue for a long time.


Chris

p.s. Too bad we couldn't have a Writing subforum in here somewhere.
x2, you speak my thoughts, Pineneedle, its nice to see a person write from the heart in all they do, :):hail:

[DaJudge]

http://pst.rbma.com/content/Shermans_Lagoon?date=20080328

[Yota]

Did we run this guy off with our incessant dick dick dickery? :(

I always found Mr. pineneedle to be a breath of fresh air in both ideas and diction.

[DaJudge]

Did we run this guy off with our incessant dick dick dickery? :(

I always found Mr. pineneedle to be a breath of fresh air in both ideas and diction.
Yes, we did.

Sorry that link didn't work. Let's try this one:

http://cserver.king-online.com/content/Shermans_Lagoon?date=--&referer=http://www.dailyink.com&uid=xvkv6o&token=rae6q&size=large

[Batgirl]

Yes, we did. Hmmm... I think he ran himself off because of not being able to take what he dished out. Yes, he was eloquent and interesting but he was also needling and boorish at times. He took offense to people commenting on his posts and then he left. Braniacs are not above silliness and drama. :silly:

[Yota]

I guess I wasn't in on those threads. I've been scarce lately.

[denverd0n]

I think he ran himself off because of not being able to take what he dished out. Yes, he was eloquent and interesting but he was also needling and boorish at times.
BINGO!

[DaJudge]

Hmmm... I think he ran himself off because of not being able to take what he dished out. Yes, he was eloquent and interesting but he was also needling and boorish at times. He took offense to people commenting on his posts and then he left. Braniacs are not above silliness and drama. :silly:
No, he just got frustrated with the inability or unwillingness of some of the folks here to engage in reasoned discourse. I. on the other hand, don't mind so much as that is what happens in my courtroom on a regular basis.

Continuing the poetry theme:

http://cserver.king-online.com/content/Shermans_Lagoon?date=--&referer=http://www.dailyink.com&uid=xvkv6o&token=rae6q&size=large

[theirishavenger]

No, he just got frustrated with the inability or unwillingness of some of the folks here to engage in reasoned discourse.



X2. I found him neither needling or boorish.

[Steve]

I found him neither needling or boorish.

I did.

[DaJudge]

No, he just got frustrated with the inability or unwillingness of some of the folks here to engage in reasoned discourse.
X2. I found him neither needling or boorish.

I did.
Opinions are like A-holes:

1. everyone has one

2. they are all different

3. they are all ugly

4. some are better than others

5. that value judgement, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

[MountainJeep]

he said his farewell and blipped off to the internettyness beyond.

Oh well. I will miss his angle, but then again I won't miss it for long. I am to busy to really truly care.