<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6872154</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:29:07.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poems and Prose</title><subtitle type='html'>my perspective on the world fact and fiction</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://factandfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://factandfiction.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6872154.post-5251808716114350961</id><published>2008-05-28T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T13:49:19.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Try as I may time and time again too tight for comfort&lt;br /&gt;confronted by my own shadows demons negative thoughts actions and consequences. I push the barrier between myself and what i am trying to get to. It resists naming and viewing although I know it is there. I want to make a change although I don't quite know what it is I want change for the better but I don;t quite know how I know it must be transformative but it is in the realm of the unknown I want to bring it into light and see it or invent it. I want to plumb the depths of a rich learning experience&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6872154-5251808716114350961?l=factandfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/5251808716114350961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/5251808716114350961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://factandfiction.blogspot.com/2008_05_01_archive.html#5251808716114350961' title=''/><author><name>Bob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6872154.post-108525863609544594</id><published>2004-05-22T13:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-05-22T13:49:40.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sir Walter of the Puddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a pig called walter&lt;br /&gt;he was a pig to me&lt;br /&gt;but then&lt;br /&gt;he was to others&lt;br /&gt;a bacon wann-a-be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he wasn't om-n-ivourous&lt;br /&gt;he didn't chew the cud&lt;br /&gt;he ate vegies&lt;br /&gt;like the rest-of-us&lt;br /&gt;and still put on the 'lud'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he was a two-tone trotter&lt;br /&gt;in patches blacknwhite&lt;br /&gt;the dogs&lt;br /&gt;thought him a rotter&lt;br /&gt;but we loved him alright&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So walter roams the paddock&lt;br /&gt;and lives&lt;br /&gt;his days in bliss&lt;br /&gt;and always&lt;br /&gt;eats his vegies&lt;br /&gt;and adores&lt;br /&gt;his owners kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meaning&lt;br /&gt;Last night we went to a friends farm.&lt;br /&gt;She had a shed-raising/room-partitioning/workshop opening party.&lt;br /&gt;A great time had by all.&lt;br /&gt;We had the great pleasure of meeting Walter- The family pig.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6872154-108525863609544594?l=factandfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/108525863609544594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/108525863609544594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://factandfiction.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108525863609544594' title=''/><author><name>Bob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6872154.post-108335772046679701</id><published>2004-04-30T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-04-30T13:46:18.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Roar on the tin roof top&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no rain drop&lt;br /&gt;There is the &lt;br /&gt;Roar on the tin roof top&lt;br /&gt;And then there is&lt;br /&gt;Tricklethrum&lt;br /&gt;And then&lt;br /&gt;Silence&lt;br /&gt;We were guttermouthed&lt;br /&gt;We have been stormdrained&lt;br /&gt;We are now washed clean&lt;br /&gt;We are the collective pronoun&lt;br /&gt;We are as one&lt;br /&gt;We are still&lt;br /&gt;At peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meaning&lt;br /&gt;I woke to the sound of rain on our roof, such a gorgeous overhead thing lying in the warmth of our bed - when we haven't had much wet weather to speak of. It's about our individuality/ common humanity. I love inventing words - how do you describe the slower rate of rain on a tin roof where you can hear individual drops whilst the roar is still resonating in your mind and the tin still reflects and amplifies the dulled splats. Then like God turned off the tap - an awesome silence - all these sound and moments are an epiphany - the centre of the poem. Then our transformation - using plumbing metaphors the welcome value of life giving water - how it sustains and renews us - and with allusions to its awesome power - this being a second depth metaphor to our spiritual renewal. Combining the nuts and bolts of language,semantics,water  and the illusion? of of our individuality the end reflects the middle and beginning of the poem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6872154-108335772046679701?l=factandfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/108335772046679701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6872154/posts/default/108335772046679701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://factandfiction.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108335772046679701' title=''/><author><name>Bob</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
