Tending Turnips

Turnips Harvested Here

Pages

  • Home
  • 50 States of Reading
  • History (According to Roth)
  • Audio-file
  • Daily Haiku-Baku
  • What Can I Write IF I Am Blocked.
  • Time Travel Through History 1999-Present
Showing posts with label Groucho Marx. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Groucho Marx. Show all posts

Monday, August 29, 2011

Review: Bard of Roth's Movie House

No comments:
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Labels: Bard of Roth's Movie House, Groucho Marx, Reviews
Older Posts Home
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Tools for Blog

  • Ngram Viewer
  • Random Letter Generator
  • Random Noun Generator
  • Random Number Generator
  • Time and Date Calculator

Search This Blog

Kerouacs Essentials for Prose

Accept loss forever.

Be submissive to everything, open, listening.

No fear or shame in the dignity of your experience language and knowledge.

Be in love with your Life.

Local Pictures

I live in Lakeland Florida and think my pictures should reflect living in the area. I would love to promote fellow Floridian artists to illustrate my entry. Currently I will either take pictures on walks, or search the internet for pictures,

What Is Poetry


When one mentions poetry, the response from others is a collective fear.

However, I believe the role of the poet is to reawaken the sense ordinary things, the hum drum, the things we trip over when we are on auto pilot. Poets reconnect us to the things we have become blinded to. Therefore, all poetry should be understood by all adults. (Sorry kids but some poems are not understood by you yet, because you need experience to understand the feeling.)

So poetry should be so dull that everyone gets it? No! Poems should be flexible and understood at a variety of levels. When I say all adults, I mean the poem at a concrete level should be understood by all adults. If a professorsesque snobs writes poetry to look intelligent and fails entrance to the poem at a concrete level, they should not be writing poetry. These snits are jerks who think that they are proven smarter when others feel dumb. They are not cool at all.
Read the Printed Word! Follow @polycarp55

Translate into Any Language

Blog Archive

  • ▼  2018 (3)
    • ▼  May (1)
      • Station Eleven by Emily St. John MandelMy rating: ...
    • ►  April (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2017 (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2016 (19)
    • ►  June (3)
    • ►  April (13)
    • ►  March (1)
    • ►  February (1)
    • ►  January (1)
  • ►  2015 (32)
    • ►  December (4)
    • ►  October (4)
    • ►  September (3)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  June (1)
    • ►  May (2)
    • ►  April (3)
    • ►  March (4)
    • ►  February (6)
    • ►  January (4)
  • ►  2014 (18)
    • ►  December (2)
    • ►  August (3)
    • ►  July (8)
    • ►  June (1)
    • ►  February (1)
    • ►  January (3)
  • ►  2013 (43)
    • ►  December (1)
    • ►  November (3)
    • ►  October (5)
    • ►  September (1)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  June (1)
    • ►  May (2)
    • ►  April (2)
    • ►  March (18)
    • ►  February (4)
    • ►  January (5)
  • ►  2012 (198)
    • ►  November (8)
    • ►  October (21)
    • ►  September (19)
    • ►  August (22)
    • ►  July (9)
    • ►  June (13)
    • ►  May (8)
    • ►  April (22)
    • ►  March (15)
    • ►  February (27)
    • ►  January (34)
  • ►  2011 (341)
    • ►  December (34)
    • ►  November (19)
    • ►  October (22)
    • ►  September (35)
    • ►  August (33)
    • ►  July (27)
    • ►  June (18)
    • ►  May (40)
    • ►  April (20)
    • ►  March (23)
    • ►  February (24)
    • ►  January (46)
  • ►  2010 (251)
    • ►  December (23)
    • ►  November (18)
    • ►  October (28)
    • ►  September (26)
    • ►  August (19)
    • ►  July (26)
    • ►  June (24)
    • ►  May (23)
    • ►  April (17)
    • ►  March (18)
    • ►  February (13)
    • ►  January (16)
  • ►  2009 (130)
    • ►  December (28)
    • ►  November (10)
    • ►  October (15)
    • ►  September (7)
    • ►  July (2)
    • ►  June (5)
    • ►  April (11)
    • ►  March (20)
    • ►  February (14)
    • ►  January (18)
  • ►  2008 (16)
    • ►  December (16)

Readers Asylum

Who is this Farmer?

Unknown
View my complete profile

Translate

The Soil

"I do adore music ... it just seems to say all the things one can't say oneself."
Virginia Woolf - The Voyage Out

The enchanted world arising out of the dim mists of the past, into which he just stepped, quivered-and disappeared.
Ivan Turgenev - Father's and Sons

Confucius once said that a bear could not fart at the North Pole without causing a big wind in Chicago. By this he meant that all events, therefore, all men are interconnected. In an unbreakable web. What one man does, no matter how seemingly insignificant vibrates through the strands and effects every man.
Philip Jose Farmer - Riders of the Purple Sage

The babble of art is eternal.
The Curtain: An Essay in Seven parts by Milan Kundera and translated by Linda Asher.

Mr. Scarecrow Read:

The venerable dead are waiting in my library to entertain me and relieve me form the nonsense of surviving mortals.
-Samuel Davies

Of all the forces in the universe, the hardest to overcome is the force of habit, Gravity is easy peasy by comparison.
Terry Pratchett: Johnny and the Dead.

REMEMBER TO SMILE A LOT JOHN RENFREW
thought moodily. People seemed to like that. They
never wondered why you kept on smiling, no matter
what was said. It was a kind of general sign of good
will, he supposed, one of the tricks he could never
master.
Gregory Benford: Time Scape




BookBloggers.org

Pulling Up Weeds

“What after all, is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean.”
-Christopher Fry
The Lady's Not for Burning


every end is a beginning; there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon; and under every deep a lower deep opens.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Circles

My room seems a ship's cabin & at nights when I wake up & hear the wind shrieking I almost fancy there is too much sail on the house & I had better go on the roof and rig in the chimney."
Herman Melville wrote to a literary friend while writing Moby Dick.

suppose childhood was never anything more than a dream piss that dampened the sheets and dried, but it lingers on as an ammoniac disgust, tainting everything."
Cameron Pierce, "Ass Goblins of Auschwitz"
Awesome Inc. theme. Powered by Blogger.

Paper Blog Me

Paperblog

Colour Palate Provided by:

Thanks be to the Web Site, Colour Lovers; and the Palate Turnip Pie designed by Caff.