Our favourite poems. - Page 3

**tabler** · June 10th, 2009, 01:32 PM

My god charlie, that is beautiful!

charliedog · June 10th, 2009, 02:21 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by scoundrel

An original poem, charliedog. Its a warm and touching one as well. I really enjoyed reading it and want to thank you for posting it.

You have a gift.

Quote:

Originally Posted by tabler

My god charlie, that is beautiful!

Thank you both VERY MUCH!!

Here's another that I turned into a song.

Shipwrecked...a Message in a Bottle (by me)

Walking down the beach at sunset, I noticed a shell in the distance
When I picked it up, I noticed it was rough around the edges.
I put it up to my ear to see what I could hear
All I heard was the sound of silence
Not even the waves or the passing of days is gonna make me feel any better.

I've been shipwrecked for so long now,
I hardly know my name.
Shipwrecked in this lonely place.
Left here in shame.

Four hundred, thirty-seven days ago I landed on the shore, of this deserted isle.
I learned to live, to feed myself, to pass the time without a smile.
All I have are these clothes and the thoughts I still know
and the tools I made to get by.
This solitude is hell, like I'm stuck inside a wishing well
I wish I'd go insane.

I'm shipwrecked in the middle of nowhere
Have I lost or have I won?
Shipwrecked where no one's gonna find me
God, what have I done?

There was a time when I knew
a lady who'd promised her love was true.
Then she took it all away, left the next day
to find another man, now I'm stuck here in the sand.
There's nothing I can do, but dream at night of you
loving someone else, and killing myself.

Shipwrecked, nothing left to live for
the time just passes me by.
Shipwrecked, all alone in paradise.
Here I wait to die...farewell.

**tabler** · June 10th, 2009, 02:32 PM

I am stunned!....Pm me ASAP, I have had some work published on Marketing, lets see what we can do!

fisongb · June 10th, 2009, 07:22 PM

The Plot Against the Giant by Wallace Stevens - for its mastery of painterly images and equally masterly phonetic effects in conjuring man's relation to the eternal Feminine.

The Plot Against the Giant

First Girl

When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.

Second Girl

I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.

Third Girl

Oh, la...le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.
He will bend his ear then.
I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.
It will undo him.

**Pinkpapercut** · June 10th, 2009, 07:35 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by anklebiter

I love the /b/ boards - anon always delivers.

**sydney1** · June 10th, 2009, 07:38 PM

I know everyone's heard it ( Four weddings and a funeral) but it still sends a shiver down the old spine; in a good way:

W.H. Auden. "Stop the clocks".

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

He was born in my fair city and I usually go by his birthplace most days.

**Pinkpapercut** · June 10th, 2009, 07:50 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by scoundrel

My proposition:

Poetry is the ultimate art of the written word. At its best, it is beautiful for its own sake and also condenses meaning and thought. It can be profound; it can be funny and as light as a feather. It can also be a song lyric: indeed, song writers are the most prolific poets of our times.

I invite you all to name poems you particularly enjoy and give some personal thoughts about them. Here's Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost:

http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/856.html

An absolute gem of a poem, which uses simple words and images to express a really complex idea about the weight of obligations.

Anyone else got one you particularly like?

I love too many poems to list here, so I thought I'd add this mournful companion piece to your posting of Frost's "Stopping By Woods..." by his friend Edward Thomas:

Lights Out

I have come to the borders of sleep,
The unfathomable deep
Forest where all must lose
Their way, however straight,
Or winding, soon or late;
They cannot choose.

Many a road and track
That, since the dawn's first crack,
Up to the forest brink,
Deceived the travellers,
Suddenly now blurs,
And in they sink.

Here love ends,
Despair, ambition ends,
All pleasure and all trouble,
Although most sweet or bitter,
Here ends in sleep that is sweeter
Than tasks most noble.

There is not any book
Or face of dearest look
That I would not turn from now
To go into the unknown
I must enter and leave alone
I know not how.

The tall forest towers;
Its cloudy foliage lowers
Ahead, shelf above shelf;
Its silence I hear and obey
That I may lose my way
And myself.

**scoundrel** · June 10th, 2009, 08:08 PM

Instead of just quoting the poem I'm going to give it some context. This is the very last passage of an excellent war memoir called Tumult In The Clouds, written by Major James Goodson, a P51 Mustang pilot in WW2. He is at the deathbed of his close friend and comrade Johnnie Godfey, many years after the war.

The last time I saw him, he was in a clinic in Germany...Only the piercing black eyes were recognisable.
-How are you Johnnie?- My question was stupid but what the hell else could I say?
-I'm dying, Goody- He had trouble mouthing the words. The muscles in his face had gone.
-Well, I guess we're all dying.
He shook his head. -It's OK, Goody. I've had a good run for my money. I've hit the highs and the lows and its all been good.
I've done a lot of thinking while I've been lying in bed, waiting, and I think I've learned a lot about life...and death. I don't mean I understand the meaning of life, no one can; but I think I know what life is for: life is for living; living to the full. If you've done that, death isn't so sad...Death is only sad for people who have never lived, whatever age they die at.
-Funny-,I said.-I came to the same conclusion when I spent a night thinking I was going to be shot. It's like a game. It's only good if you throw yourself into it and play it to the hilt, and enjoy it. Then it's good.
[Godfrey]-And it's not only the high spots that are good. You need the lows too. Even prison camp was good for me. I was a spoiled kid when I went back [to America] for the hero's treatment; being a POW made me human again.....
After a pause he said,-Do you remember that peom you had put up in the mess? You knew the guy that wrote it, he was an American in the RCAF that got killed early on.
-Sure-, I said. -John Magee. he called it ''High Flight''.
-How did it go?
I recited it for him:

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split cloud, - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delerious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

rattlerman · June 10th, 2009, 08:16 PM

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I've watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.
All those ... moments will be lost in time, like tears...in rain.

Roy Batty - Blade Runner
the last line is actually a Haiku which has always rang a chord with me.

snape · June 10th, 2009, 08:22 PM

Auguries of Innocence
William Blake

TO see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.

A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus'd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.

Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.

This is only a short part of a lengthy tirade against the church, the state, the landed gentry, greed and cruelty. It applies very much to this present day although written 200 years ago.More can be found here:

http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/blake01.html#2

June 10th, 2009, 01:32 PM	#21
tabler Comfortably Numb Join Date: Jan 2009 Location: St James Park Posts: 7,029 Thanks: 112,519 Thanked 146,054 Times in 8,009 Posts	My god charlie, that is beautiful! __________________ To view links or images in signatures your post count must be 0 or greater. You currently have 0 posts. *Velcome to zee Forum. You must obey zee rules!*

June 10th, 2009, 02:32 PM	#23
tabler Comfortably Numb Join Date: Jan 2009 Location: St James Park Posts: 7,029 Thanks: 112,519 Thanked 146,054 Times in 8,009 Posts	I am stunned!....Pm me ASAP, I have had some work published on Marketing, lets see what we can do! __________________ To view links or images in signatures your post count must be 0 or greater. You currently have 0 posts. *Velcome to zee Forum. You must obey zee rules!*

June 10th, 2009, 08:08 PM	#28
scoundrel Super Moderator Join Date: Jan 2009 Location: England Posts: 26,242 Thanks: 162,409 Thanked 278,552 Times in 26,186 Posts	High Flight by John Magee Instead of just quoting the poem I'm going to give it some context. This is the very last passage of an excellent war memoir called Tumult In The Clouds, written by Major James Goodson, a P51 Mustang pilot in WW2. He is at the deathbed of his close friend and comrade Johnnie Godfey, many years after the war. The last time I saw him, he was in a clinic in Germany...Only the piercing black eyes were recognisable. -How are you Johnnie?- My question was stupid but what the hell else could I say? -I'm dying, Goody- He had trouble mouthing the words. The muscles in his face had gone. -Well, I guess we're all dying. He shook his head. -It's OK, Goody. I've had a good run for my money. I've hit the highs and the lows and its all been good. I've done a lot of thinking while I've been lying in bed, waiting, and I think I've learned a lot about life...and death. I don't mean I understand the meaning of life, no one can; but I think I know what life is for: life is for living; living to the full. If you've done that, death isn't so sad...Death is only sad for people who have never lived, whatever age they die at. -Funny-,I said.-I came to the same conclusion when I spent a night thinking I was going to be shot. It's like a game. It's only good if you throw yourself into it and play it to the hilt, and enjoy it. Then it's good. [Godfrey]-And it's not only the high spots that are good. You need the lows too. Even prison camp was good for me. I was a spoiled kid when I went back [to America] for the hero's treatment; being a POW made me human again..... After a pause he said,-Do you remember that peom you had put up in the mess? You knew the guy that wrote it, he was an American in the RCAF that got killed early on. -Sure-, I said. -John Magee. he called it ''High Flight''. -How did it go? I recited it for him: Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split cloud, - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long, delerious, burning blue I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew - And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. __________________ To view links or images in signatures your post count must be 0 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.

June 10th, 2009, 07:22 PM	#24
fisongb Member Join Date: Nov 2008 Location: West London Posts: 20 Thanks: 398 Thanked 487 Times in 20 Posts	The Plot Against the Giant by Wallace Stevens - for its mastery of painterly images and equally masterly phonetic effects in conjuring man's relation to the eternal Feminine. The Plot Against the Giant First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the civilest odors Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers. It will check him. Second Girl I shall run before him, Arching cloths besprinkled with colors As small as fish-eggs. The threads Will abash him. Third Girl Oh, la...le pauvre! I shall run before him, With a curious puffing. He will bend his ear then. I shall whisper Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals. It will undo him.

June 10th, 2009, 07:38 PM	#26
sydney1 Vintage Member Join Date: May 2008 Posts: 1,378 Thanks: 10,562 Thanked 27,962 Times in 1,357 Posts	I know everyone's heard it ( Four weddings and a funeral) but it still sends a shiver down the old spine; in a good way: W.H. Auden. "Stop the clocks". Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. He was born in my fair city and I usually go by his birthplace most days.

June 10th, 2009, 08:16 PM	#29
rattlerman Member Join Date: Aug 2008 Posts: 28 Thanks: 201 Thanked 202 Times in 26 Posts	I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I've watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those ... moments will be lost in time, like tears...in rain. Roy Batty - Blade Runner the last line is actually a Haiku which has always rang a chord with me.

June 10th, 2009, 08:22 PM	#30
snape Blocked! Join Date: Nov 2007 Posts: 155 Thanks: 177 Thanked 461 Times in 102 Posts	Auguries of Innocence William Blake TO see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thro' all its regions. A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus'd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre from the Brain does tear. A Skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing. This is only a short part of a lengthy tirade against the church, the state, the landed gentry, greed and cruelty. It applies very much to this present day although written 200 years ago.More can be found here: http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/blake01.html#2