Note: No profile exists for this entry - most likely it was deleted.
Ivory Towers
Oh for an ivory tower
From which I could dispense
My wisdom to the numpties below,
The plebs, those too dense
To comprehend the word of god,
My gospel and my revelations.
My soul/sole mission in life,
Is the edification
Of those less gifted,
And to share my wisdom,
Liberally, in large doses,
In this, my chosen fiefdom.
<Deleted User> (5646)
Fri 21st Aug 2009 14:35
I sincerely hope this message is seen by Steven before it disappears as he has.
Thanks for your comment on my profile page Steven. I can understand your feelings very well because i have felt much the same several times. I don't feel as though i'm ''precious'' either whatever that over-used term on this site actually means.
I do feel it's very sad when someone is so hurt by the comments received that they feel they can no longer participate.
Many of the people on here do what they do in good faith to assist another writer. Unfortunately it can seem harsh when the writer might not want to 'hear' what someone else has to say about their work.
I think i'm correct in saying however that any one of them would be horrified to discover they have upset someone to the point of leaving the website.
I will be sorry to see you go because anything we ever write is of some value to someone else, regardless of the quality and quantity.
Best wishes to you and hope you change your mind.
Janet.x
<Deleted User> (5646)
Fri 21st Aug 2009 13:43
It's not what you do, it's the way that you do it.
It's not what you say, it's the way that you say it.
and
Anthony - is the whole of your comment referring to this poem because as far as i can see, you have a fair sense of judgement.
I like this poem. I suppose we all have difficulty communicating without appearing to be like some god who knows it all at one time and another.
Sorry to go on a bit. It's just a baggage clearance system. Get it off your chest and be done with it. In the nicest way possible of course. :-)
Janet.x
Could someone please lend my a very big shoehorn? It appears (by some freak accident) that I have both my foot in my mouth and my tongue wedged very firmly in my cheek.
Oh for the gift of hindsight
And the psychic’s magic eye,
When “welcome” courts just platitudes.
And not the hows or why.
Oh for a magic mirror
To be always close at hand.
To reflect the fragile egos
Of the fairest in the land.
Oh for the gift of deafness
To anything but praise,
To bask in one’s own “opinion”
In the happy sunlit days.
Oh for a place to run and hide
From the chattering girls and boys,
But how to escape that little pram
When the floor’s waist deep with toys? ;-)
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Isobel
Sat 22nd Aug 2009 07:55
Steve - I would like to get in touch with you but my mail bounces back. Please drop me an email. x