Issue 15 Right Hand Pointing

[Dale]

...is on the web at http://www.righthandpointing.com

Best,

Dale

[gonzo914]

Dale, I do so enjoy these. Thanks.

(I would submit something, except for that pesky "No graphic violence" rule, which prohibits poems about tongues throbbing in ashtrays.)

[Joseph E. Smith]

... I would submit something, except for that pesky "No graphic violence" rule, which prohibits poems about tongues throbbing in ashtrays.

... now you've raised my curiosity.

[Dale]

tongues throbbing in ashtrays. These are a dime a dozen. Such a literary cliche.

[gonzo914]

tongues throbbing in ashtrays. These area dime a dozen. Such a literary cliche.

Famous first drafts --

Dickinson --

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage help but just Ourselves
And a Tongue Throbbing in an Ashtray.

Yeats --

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the tongue throbs in the ashtray;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

Frost --

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have a tongue throbbing in an ashtray.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Eliot --

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a tongue throbbing in an ashtray;

[cowtime]

tongues throbbing in ashtrays. These area dime a dozen. Such a literary cliche.

Famous first drafts --

Dickinson --

Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage help but just Ourselves
And a Tongue Throbbing in an Ashtray.

Yeats --

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the tongue throbs in the ashtray;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

Frost --

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have a tongue throbbing in an ashtray.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Eliot --

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a tongue throbbing in an ashtray;

It's pure poetry I tell you -it's golden Gonzo, golden!!!!!!!!!!
and this is why you are infallible!

I think you've really got something there....let's see...

Longfellow-

Under a spreading chesnut tree, the village smithy stands;
like a tongue throbbing in an ashtray,
the muscles of his brawny arms, are strong as iron bands........

or my fave-

James W. Riley's The Outhouse

When grandpa had to "go out back"
and make his morning call,
We'd bundle up the dear old man
with a muffler and a shawl,
I knew the hole on which he sat-
'twas padded all around,
Like a tongue throbbing in an ashtray,
'twas all too wide I found.

[fearfaoin]

... I would submit something, except for that pesky "No graphic violence" rule, which prohibits poems about tongues throbbing in ashtrays.

... now you've raised my curiosity.

How quick we forget those contests we set up for judging each other's poems.
Especially when we, Bloomfieldishly, have no prizes to award.
Not even a tongue ... throbbing in an ashtray!

[Bloomfield]

... I would submit something, except for that pesky "No graphic violence" rule, which prohibits poems about tongues throbbing in ashtrays.

... now you've raised my curiosity.

How quick we forget those contests we set up for judging each other's poems.
Especially when we, Bloomfieldishly, have no prizes to award.
Not even a tongue ... throbbing in an ashtray!

You cut me to the slow. I still feel guilty about the unfinished poetry contest. sacra fama auris.

[fearfaoin]

I still feel guilty about the unfinished poetry contest. sacra fama auris.

I had no idea there was any sacred gold up for grabs. I thought it was just
a shirt that said "I wrote the best poem and all I got was this T-Shirt".
Don't feel guilty, though. If I'm any judge, that thread was its own reward.

[Dale]

in)
a
sh
t
ray(
throbs
a)
ton
g
ue

--e.e.cummings

[Dale]

in an ashtray
a throbbing tongue
and a bloody peony

--Issa

[Ro3b]

I want to play too!

Shakespeare:

But soft! What tongue in yonder ashtray throbs?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

Chaucer:

Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the sever'd tongue
Hath in the ashe-traye throb'd the ful day longe,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open eye-
(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages...

Poe:

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
My eyes with kerchief daubing, like a tongue in ashtray throbbing,
Long dark nights I lay a-sobbing — sobbing for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

[Dale]

I'd go with this for Poe:

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the throbbing of his hideous tongue!"

[Bloomfield]

I'd go with this for Poe:

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the throbbing of his hideous tongue!"

nice one!

[Ro3b]

My coworkers are asking what I'm laughing at.