Hi all. YEP - here I go again!  

I thought it might be fun to try and use several of T.S. Eliot's Poetry snippets and form a new poem using partial lines from his various poems.

I will supply the lines. You can use them as the beginning of a line or mix them up as long as the snippets remain intact. Good luck!

Here are the snippets you must use in your poem (in any order). Feel free to rhyme or write free verse or any other type of poetry style to your liking!
There are 12 snippets. You must use at least 8.

Cheers and good luck!

~Cleo  

A heap of broken images
by the ripple of
The reminiscence comes
an old battered lantern hung
Compelled my imagination
in its arboreal gloom
In death's dream kingdom
Trembling with tenderness
cunning passages, contrived corridors
Of faint stale smells
The circles of the stormy
And through the spaces

Ok - here is mine (an Acrostic) - I tried to be new here by mixing endstops, rhyming and an Acrostic...PHEW!  

Stormy Sanctuary

Trembling with tenderness, I twinge.
Shattered in its arboreal gloom, a syringe

entices a heap of broken images incoherently.
Longing in death’s dream kingdom, I transparently
identify an old battered lantern hung; a holocaust
of faint stale smells snatch its light, now lost.
The circles of the stormy sanctuary reveal

lurid cunning passages; contrived corridors appeal
intimate escapism. Compelled, my imagination
vindicates itself by the ripple of rough sensations
exercised within. And through the spaces of injection,
slowly, the reminiscence comes, stunning resurrection.

© 2003 Lorraine Kanter

Reality

Trembling with tenderness,
as he looked about,
the sudden fear,
in its arboreal gloom,
shattered his mind.

The circles, of the stormy
life he led,
just..
A heap of broken images.

Can’t undo what has been,
the reminiscence comes,
slowly, etched
in his memories.

Clearly, those
cunning passages, contrived corridors,
rooms flush
of faint stale smells,
a harbinger.

An old battered lantern hung,
from his shanty door,
near by, the ripple of
the rushing stream.

And through the spaces,
big cracks in the walls,
he stared,
it compelled his imagination

In death's dream kingdom…

Another excellent reply Lar!  :pharoah2  :pharoah2

That's two thumbs up for you!  :reindeer:

Cheers!
~Cleo  :cali:

In death's dream kingdom
a heap of broken images
compelled my imagination,
in its arboreal gloom,
to review its content, and itself.

Trembling with tendernesses,
the reminiscence comes:
reeking of faint stale smells,
dancing that last grizzly waltz,
down cunning passages, contrived corridors.

There, where an old battered lantern hung
And through the spaces no dark is seen
by the ripple of an underground rill
the circles of the stormy thoughts
reveal themselves, cackle, and die.

Alan McAlpine Douglas

Never Forget


The reminiscence comes from an old,
battered lantern hung from the tree’s
lowest branches.
In its arboreal gloom, pale light
is oppressed, forced into rigid
conformity.

A heap of broken images flash
through a similarly fractured mind,
inflicting pain.
Row after row of barbed fences haunt.
The ditches lined with bodies scream . . .
Join us!  Join us!

The air reeks of faint stale smells: over-full
buckets of human waste, charred flesh,
decaying hopes.
Living in death’s dream kingdom, I see
smoke crawl to the sky-- aftermath of
machine-gun fire.

By the ripple of wind-blown light that
compelled my imagination, old fears
arise anew.
Trembling with tenderness, tears descend
my cheeks in remembrance of lost friends,
lost lives, lost souls.

Time has constructed a barrier
to soften the pain of past tortures-
forgetfulness.
But cracks remain to be poked, prodded-
battle scars.  And through the spaces . . .
I remember.

Nicely done Alan!

I like the image presented here:
Trembling with tendernesses,
the reminiscence comes:
reeking of faint stale smells,
dancing that last grizzly waltz,
down cunning passages, contrived corridors.

Cool!  :cool:

:pharoah2

Ahhhh Dan!
I was hoping you'd psot this here!

There's something about the tone of those horrid concentration camps that sould never be forgetten. These snippets certainly fit the images!

Well done!  :detective:

This say it all:
"Trembling with tenderness, tears descend
my cheeks in remembrance of lost friends,
lost lives, lost souls."

~Cleo  

Dear Atlantis

You have taken these snippets and constructed a magnificent Remembrance Day poem. Today, in fact.

MAkes very grim reading, thus is a GREAT anti-war poem.

Love
Alan

Thanks Alan,

I never really considered the "anti-war" aspect of this.  It's just what tumbled out of my silly head when I read the snippets.  To be perfectly honest, I don't know much more about it than a basic high school education.  But that's more than enough to tell me it was horrible.

Toodles,

Dan

Purgatory

In death’s dream kingdom there’s an empty room
and through the spaces in its walls one might
observe within its arboreal gloom
an old battered lantern hung there for light.

For some, the reminiscence comes this way;
the circles of the stormy lives we live
come back to us like it was yesterday.
A heap of broken images will give

us time for some reflection as we piece
the puzzles of our life. We curse or bless
rewards whereby the ripple of surcease
shall end our days trembling with tenderness.

Will perfumes burgeon from the pearly gates
or whiffs of faint stale smells where fire awaits?



Snippets used: in death’s dream kingdom, and through the spaces, in its arboreal gloom, an old battered lantern hung, the reminiscence comes, the circles of the stormy, a heap of broken images, by the ripple of, trembling with tenderness, of faint stale smells

Did some more snippen, Larry! Hows dat?


Soy Cosquillas

Like an old battered lantern
hung on a ramshackle barn wall,
cunning passages, contrived corridors
and the circles of the stormy seas
compelled my imagination.
A heap of broken images,
a reminder of faint stale smells
in death's dream kingdom tumbled,
and, trembling with tenderness,
commanded in its arboreal gloom –
I must obey!
And through the spaces,
the broadways, the pathways,
the trails and the byways,
by the ripple of music, starlight,
and moonlight, I must obey.
The reminiscence comes:
I must obey!



Snippets used: an old battered lantern hung, cunning passages, contrived corridors, the circles of the stormy, compelled my imagination, a heap of broken images, of faint stale smells, in death's dream kingdom, trembling with tenderness, in its arboreal gloom, and through the spaces, by the ripple of, the reminiscence comes

Hey Merlin,

Nice snippin'! I came by for a bit yesterday and the title was "Tee Ess Rex" and now you have changed the title to Spanish and from my minimal exposure to the language, it has something to do with "tickling".

The last part seems a bit like me looking through
" the spaces,
the broadways, the pathways,
the trails and the byways," of challenge forums to find something that piqued my interest. The urge to write tells me, as you reiterate, "I must obey".

I see you have used all the snippets once again. I couldn't fit them all in a sonnet or huitain and they were too long for a limerick. Don't do much FV and that seems to be the majority of what is being posted these days.

Anyway, all I can add is "Dat's Great".

Larry

Hi Larry, and thanks.

Yep, T.S. Rex didn't tickle my fancy, so I changed it. Now I'm tickled.

I'm looking at different snip-sets to see what they might offer. Anne Bradstreet didn't get much exposure, so I've taken hers and have a copy, but will let it sit a day or so.

Glad you looked in as looky-loos are getting scarce again.

M