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Theme Changer

 Topic: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others

 (Read 36409 times)
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  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #120 - May 13, 2011, 04:17 PM

    We don't want you as our co-pilot


    Save us, God, who don't believe in you,
    Save us from the multitudes who do.
    Save us, who just want a little peace,
    From those who worship you, without cease.

    Save us from those Holy Lands
    Where descendants of nomadic bands
    Wrap their heads in holy towels
    And pray to Y*W*H, without vowels.

    Save us from those faiths Abrahamic,
    Whether Judaic, Christian or Islamic.
    Save us from every hegira
    Whether it starts in Mecca or Palmyra.

    Save us, God, from Christians' anger
    When we won't display their babe in a manger.
    Save us from Muslims' wrath
    When we follow not Muhammad's path.

    Save us from those orgies of piety
    That religiously follow every calamity.
    Save us from every minaret and steeple,
    Save us from every Chosen People,

    Save us from the armed Muslim, Christian, and Jew:
    Save us uncircumcised dogs, us unchosen few.
    Save us from the crusade, the jihad, the pogrom,
    Save us from wise men who are dumb.

    Save us from all those believers
    Who express their faith with cleavers,
    Or who, with orders direct from heaven,
    Fly into buildings in a 747.

    Save us from televangelists with visions,
    Save us from unmedicated Pat Robertsons.
    Save us from zealots straight from hell,
    Save us from bin Laden and Jerry Falwell.

    We don't want you as our co-pilot,
    We don't want your terrorists either;
    Instead of all this religious rot,
    What we really want is a breather

    From God-Bless-this and God-Bless-that,
    From General Sharon and Chairman Arafat,
    From mullahs, rabbis, and popes
    From Taliban sharp shooters with scopes,

    From Mossad agents with Bond-like flair
    Who assassinate Palestinians in their lair;
    From Palestinians who stand and wait,
    Holy time bombs, wired by hate.

    Save us from all sectarian strife,
    Save us from that religious life
    Where the individual neurosis
    Gets collectivized in psychosis.

    Save us, God, we unchosen few,
    Neither Muslim, Christian , Jew,
    Save us from your followers true,
    But save us, above all, God, from you.

    By R.F

    My Book     news002       
    My Blog  pccoffee
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #121 - May 14, 2011, 01:09 AM

    Prometheus by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

    Shroud your heaven, Zeus,
    With cloudy vapours,
    And do as you will, like the boy
    That knocks the heads off thistles,
    With oak-trees and mountain-tops;
    Now you must leave alone
    My Earth for Me,
    And my hut, which you did not build,
    And my hearth,
    The glowing whereof
    You envy me.

    I know of nothing poorer
    Under the sun, than you, you Gods!
    Your majesty
    Is barely nourished
    By sacrificial offerings
    And prayerful exhalations,
    And should starve
    Were children and beggars not
    Fools full of Hope.

    When I was a child,
    And did not know the in or out,
    I turned my wandering eyes toward
    The sun, as if, beyond, there were
    An ear to hear my lament,
    A heart, like mine,
    To be moved to pity for the afflicted.

    Who helped me
    Against the pride of the Titans?
    Who delivered me from Death,
    From Slavery?
    Did you not accomplish it all yourself,
    My holy, burning Heart?
    And shone, young and good,
    Deceived, your thanks for salvation
    To the sleeping one above?

    Should I honour you? Why?
    Have you softened the sufferings,
    Ever, of the burdened?
    Have you stilled the tears,
    Ever, of the anguished?
    Was I not forged as a Man
    By almighty Time
    And eternal Fate,
    My masters and thine?

    Do you somehow imagine
    That I should hate Life,
    Flee to the desert,
    Because not every
    Flowering dream should bloom?
    Here I sit, I form humans
    After my own image;
    A race, to be like me,
    To sorrow, to weep,
    To enjoy and delight itself,
    And to heed you not at all -
    Like me!

    "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
            Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

    - John Keats
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #122 - May 14, 2011, 01:19 AM

    She walks in beauty by Lord Byron
     
    I
    She walks in beauty—like the night
      Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
    And all that's best of dark and bright
      Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
    Thus mellowed to the tender light
      Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

         II
    One shade the more, one ray the less,
      Had half impaired the nameless grace
    Which waves in every raven tress
      Or softly lightens o'er her face—
    Where thoughts serenely sweet express
      How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

         III
    And on that cheek and o'er that brow
      So soft, so calm yet eloquent,
    The smiles that win, the tints that glow
      But tell of days in goodness spent
    A mind at peace with all below,
      A heart whose love is innocent.

    "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
            Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

    - John Keats
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #123 - May 14, 2011, 03:19 AM

    byron is fabulous

    At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make
    Ambiguous undulations as they sink,
    Downward to darkness, on extended wings. - Stevens
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #124 - May 14, 2011, 03:26 PM

    This here is Ghost, by Emilie Autumn.

    Ghost,
    did you know sometimes it frightens me
    when you say my name and I can't see you?
    Will you ever learn to materialize before you speak?
    Impetuous boy, if that's what you really are.
    How many centuries since you've climbed a balcony
    or do you do this every night with someone else?
    You tell me that you never leave
    and I am almost afraid to believe it.
    Why is it me you've chosen to follow?
    Did you like the way I look when I am sleeping?
    Was my hair more fun to tangle?
    Are my dreams more entertaining?
    Do you laugh when I'm complaining that I'm all alone?
    Where were you when I searched the sea
    for a friend to talk to me?
    In a year where will you be?
    Is it enough for you to steal into my mind
    filling up my page with music written in my hand?
    You know I'll take the credit, for I must have made you come to me somehow.
    But please try to close the curtains when you leave at night
    or I'll have to find someone to stay and warm me.
    Will you always attend my midnight tea parties
    as long as I set your place?
    If one day your sugar sits untouched,
    will you have gone forever?
    Would you miss me in a thousand years,
    When you will dry another's tears?
    But you say you'll never leave me,
    and I wonder if you'll have the decency
    to pass through my wall to the next room
    while I dress for dinner.
    But when I'm stuck in conversation
    with stuffed shirts whose adoration
    hurts my ears, where are you then?
    Can't you cut in when I dance with other men?
    It's too late not to interfere with my life.
    You've already made me a most unsuitable wife
    for any man who wants to be the first his bride has slept with.
    And you can't just fly into people's bedrooms
    then expect them to calmly wave goodbye.
    You've changed the course of history,
    and didn't even try.
    Where are you now?
    Standing behind me,
    taking my hand.
    Come... and remind me
    who you are.
    Have you traveled far?
    Are you made of stardust too?
    Are the angels after you?
    Tell me what I am to do.
    But until then I'll save your side of the bed...
    just come, and sing me to sleep.

    I don't actually know why I like this one so much. I just do. *shrugs*
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #125 - May 14, 2011, 04:22 PM

    I'll be your dog sunbul...I mean...I'll be your ghost.

    Achingly romantic poem. I love it.


    Hi
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #126 - May 14, 2011, 04:29 PM

    And it was at that age... poetry arrived
    in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
    it came from, from winter or a river
    I don't know how or when,
    no, they weren't voices, they were not
    words, nor silence
    but from a street it called me,
    from the branches of the night,
    abruptly from the others,
    among raging fires
    or returning alone,
    there it was, without a face,
    and it touched me.

    I didn't know what to say, my mouth
    had no way
    with names,
    my eyes were blind,
    something kicked in my soul,
    fever or forgotten wings,
    and I made my own way,
    deciphering
    that fire,
    and I wrote the first, faint line,
    faint, without substance, pure
    nonsense,
    pure wisdom
    of one who knows nothing,
    and suddenly I saw
    the heavens
    unfastened
    and open,
    planets,
    palpitating plantations,
    the darkness perforated,
    riddled
    with arrows, fire and flowers,
    the overpowering night, the universe.

    And I, tiny being,
    drunk with the great starry void,
    likeness, image of
    mystery,
    felt myself a pure part
    of the abyss,
    I wheeled with the stars.
    My heart broke loose with the wind.

    'Poetry', Pablo Neruda. (trans. Alastair Read)
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #127 - May 14, 2011, 04:54 PM

    I'll be your dog sunbul...I mean...I'll be your ghost.

    Achingly romantic poem. I love it.



    XD :3

    If you like it, there's a lovely reading of it by the poet herself accompanied with music:
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAOH06ppmhY
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #128 - May 14, 2011, 05:53 PM

    Hey, thanks. It sounds even better when I replace the Yorkshire voice in my head, with the sweet, playful American accent of the author...

    Hi
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #129 - May 14, 2011, 06:41 PM

    so much depends
    upon

    a red wheel
    barrow

    glazed with rain
    water

    beside the white
    chickens.

    -- William Carlos Williams

    Smiley A classic from every college American poetry/ literature class.

    So once again I'm left with the classic Irish man's dilemma, do I eat the potato or do I let it ferment so I can drink it later?
    My political philosophy below
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwGat4i8pJI&feature=g-vrec
    Just kidding, here are some true heros
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBTgvK6LQqA
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #130 - May 14, 2011, 07:20 PM

    I'm sure most of you have read this before, but I never tire of it...



    IF you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
    If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
    If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
    Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
    And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

    If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
    If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
    If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
    Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

    If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
    And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
    If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
    And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

    If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
    if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
    If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
    Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
    And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

    - Rudyard Kipling
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #131 - May 14, 2011, 07:52 PM

    Thanks Prince. I always have time for that. I read it carefully each time I come across it, and remind myself of the lessons I may have forgotten since the last time I read it. It touches me and moves me in ways that the qu'ran never did, even when I was a  young believer.

    Hi
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #132 - May 14, 2011, 08:36 PM

    @musivore: I can't imagine that poem in a Yorkshire accent, weirdly enough. And I think her voice fits this poem, which doesn't always happen with her stuff.
    @Spinoza: That poem is badass.

    @thread: I'm sure at least a few of you will have heard of this guy before, but I present to you Taylor Mali with What Teachers Make:
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #133 - May 14, 2011, 08:48 PM

    @musivore: I can't imagine that poem in a Yorkshire accent, weirdly enough. And I think her voice fits this poem, which doesn't always happen with her stuff.
    @Spinoza: That poem is badass.

    @thread: I'm sure at least a few of you will have heard of this guy before, but I present to you Taylor Mali with What Teachers Make:
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU


    Dayum.
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #134 - May 15, 2011, 04:39 PM

    Dayum.


    IKR?

    @thread: I'm not quite sure what to make of this poem - I just found it floating around on the internet - but I'll show it to you anyway.

    I Want To Be An Alcoholic by Foster Richardson.


    I want to be an alcoholic.
    I want the dreamy, slippery confidence
                of someone who's sure that his place in the world
                is exactly where he is.
    I want to celebrate my publication,
                family and friends gathered at Kelleher's,
                guests buying and laughing and excusing,
                because this is a big day. After all, he's a writer,
                now.
                You know how they are.

    I want a few drinks after work to become a few too many.
    I want to charm co-workers and ignore calls from home,
                and decline ride offers,
                and decline and decline,
                until I accept with grace and gratitude.
                Then excuse myself to the restroom and sneak out the back.

    I want to sleep through getting-ready time and shake an arm from the bed at the confused frowns.
    I want to drive to work at 10:00 am and keep driving and call in sick over the bar noise,
                as they bring me towering, breakfast-sized Erdinger drafts,
                lemon juice streaking from the rim.
    And I want them one
                after another
                after another.

    I want to listen to the Pogues too much and have my own stool at Kelleher's,
                so when someone asks, "How's the book coming?" I can say
                            "Just doing some research!" or
                            "Working on it now!" or
                            "Go fuck yourself!"
                enough times that it's not a joke,
                for anyone.

    I want to forget the rotting windows and three-digit bank balance
                and the parent-teacher conferences and the union contracts.
    I want to get fired after my second DUI and empathize with my liberators
                and drive distraught and thirsty to Sullivan's
                (because Kelleher's won't have me)
                and put down a pint or eight.
    I want to get in a huge row with the wife,
                and not blame her when she packs up her things and the girls'
                and defects to Inlawvania.

    Then,
    at last unencumbered,
    at last undistracted,
    I'll retire to the page.
    I'll drain a couple tall-boys
    and unleash the full force of my literary knowledge, skills, and abilities.

    And it will be soggy, dreadful, derivative garbage.

    And in the morning I'll realize it for what it is
                and what it's not
                and I'll crack a beer because I won't know how to do anything else.

    Romantic.
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #135 - May 15, 2011, 05:33 PM

    Seems he was drunk when he wrote that ^
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #136 - May 17, 2011, 05:08 PM

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG-v9SiRlfc

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LeMh0BSVShI

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyfTHQ1FAFc

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzY2-GRDiPM

    And pretty much anything from Def Poetry Jam. I want that showw backkkkkk.



    Started from the bottom, now I'm here
    Started from the bottom, now my whole extended family's here

    JOIN THE CHAT
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #137 - June 23, 2011, 01:26 PM

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhOnqPkEvmc&list=PL92312F8EF0E39F33

    Started from the bottom, now I'm here
    Started from the bottom, now my whole extended family's here

    JOIN THE CHAT
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #138 - June 23, 2011, 03:05 PM

    I may have shared this in the shoutbox ages ago. I do like a bit of John Cooper Clarke. Missed him last weekend..

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4qN9pduox0
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #139 - September 20, 2011, 07:28 PM

    The laws of God, the laws of man,
    He may keep that will and can;
    Not I: let God and man decree
    Laws for themselves and not for me;
    And if my ways are not as theirs
    Let them mind their own affairs.
    Their deeds I judge and much condemn,
    Yet when did I make laws for them?
    Please yourselves, say I, and they
    Need only look the other way.
    But no, they will not; they must still
    Wrest their neighbour to their will,
    And make me dance as they desire
    With jail and gallows and hell-fire.
    And how am I to face the odds
    Of man's bedevilment and God's?
    I, a stranger and afraid
    In a world I never made.
    They will be master, right or wrong;
    Though both are foolish, both are strong.
    And since, my soul, we cannot fly
    To Saturn nor to Mercury,
    Keep we must, if keep we can,
    These foreign laws of God and man.

    A.E. Housman
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #140 - September 20, 2011, 07:30 PM

    Yay, this thread is back! dance

    /has nothing to contribute
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #141 - September 20, 2011, 07:34 PM

    lol Sunbul loll
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #142 - September 20, 2011, 07:51 PM

    Hope no one minds me posting all over this topic but I think this is something special as it breaches a topic that was dangerous in the victorian era - even if it only stays metaphorical. It also is about another authorI really enjoy so <3

    "Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
    And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
    And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
    Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.
     
    'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
    In the good old time 'twas hanging for the colour that it is;
    Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
    For the nameless and abominable colour of his hair.
     
    Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
    To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
    But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
    And they're haling him to justice for the colour of his hair.
     
    Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet
    And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
    And between his spells of labour in the time he has to spare
    He can curse the God that made him for the colour of his hair."
    A.E. Housman

    Cookies for everyone who gets the topic  parrot
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #143 - October 14, 2011, 06:18 PM

    He drew a circle that shut me out —
    Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
    But Love and I had the wit to win:
    We drew a circle that took him in.

    Edwin Markham
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #144 - October 14, 2011, 06:25 PM

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmWZOsVtqR0

    "The words that oscillate between nonsense and supreme meaning are the oldest and truest." - C.G. Jung
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #145 - October 14, 2011, 06:45 PM

    TS Eliot: ‘Journey of the Magi

    “A cold coming we had of it,
    Just the worst time of the year
    For a journey, and such a long journey:
    The ways deep and the weather sharp,
    The very dead of winter.”
    And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
    Lying down in the melting snow.
    There were times we regretted
    The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
    And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
    Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
    And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
    And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
    And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
    And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
    A hard time we had of it.
    At the end we preferred to travel all night,
    Sleeping in snatches,
    With the voices singing in our ears, saying
    That this was all folly.

    Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
    Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
    With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
    And three trees on the low sky,
    And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
    Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
    Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
    And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
    But there was no information, and so we continued
    And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
    Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

    All this was a long time ago, I remember,
    And I would do it again, but set down
    This set down
    This: were we lead all that way for
    Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
    We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
    But had thought they were different; this Birth was
    Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
    We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
    But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
    With an alien people clutching their gods.
    I should be glad of another death.
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #146 - October 14, 2011, 07:37 PM

    The Myth of the Sensitive New Age Nice Guy

    The sensitive new age nice guy,
    generally wears his hair in a ponytail,
    and is in touch with that side of himself
    he thinks of as female.
    Although he says he wears no armor,
    he wears his issues on his chest;
    and so to have conversation with him,
    you must get through
    that invisible chain mail vest.
       
    He reads an awful lot, about what women want,
    in fact - he reads too much.
    (I heard one quoting pages once,
    and couldn't swallow my lunch.)
    Where he gathers all his information,
    has left him with a rather stunted imagination
    he's an impossibly boring new age creation
    completely incapable of cerebral masturbation.
    But he is a master of doormat manipulation
       
    Some might say I'm being a little rough,
    after all he's just trying to be kind,
    a gentle, sensitive, understanding, sweet man
    is really a good find.

    A genuinely caring man,
    Well, of course there is nothing wrong with that,
    It's just the lines falling from his mouth
    come out sounding...
                     really flat.
          
    He's having a hard time with his identity,
    he talks about his different boundaries
    he never yells, always says please,
    and around him all you feel
    is guilty,
    guilty,
    guilty.

    Now as much as I'd hate to hear:
    "Hey baby what's your sign",
    it's no more entertaining than
    a self help book quoted line for line.

    He likes to cook, he likes to clean,
    he has a very low self-esteem.
    He finds it difficult to be prince charming
    But I'm not Cinderella, honey,
    and the prince is so dull it's alarming.

    He doesn't understand why
    women don't like "the too nice guy"
    overlooking of course, what the "too" might imply.
    In fact it's one of his most annoying traits,
    besides The Joy Of Sex quotes he makes.
    Almost as bad as the "I'm a lesbian in a man's body" fakes.
    He'll just never understand exactly what it takes.
    "Touch yourself and show me how you like it done"
    "I'm not hurting you now am I hon?"
    SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME HAVE SOME FUN!
     
    (Some new age nice guy sex-therapist-with-a-book
    is the real guilty one!)

    Now, caring about how your partner is feeling
    Is definitely an idea that is very appealing,
    yet if this is what a woman is screaming:
    (While ripping off your clothes)   
    "Oh yes! Do it! Fuck me now!"
    simply shut up sweetheart, and do what you are told.
          
    He finds with women he better relates,
    and yet somehow he rarely dates.
    He says he understands women's issues,
    he also knows what it's like to be used.
    He cries at soppy movies so you'd better have some tissues.
    He knows EXACTLY how you feel
    (he secretly reads Danielle Steel)
       
    And though he'll never pass a watermelon through his rump,
    nor does he bloat during that time of the month,
    he has noticed that on a regular schedule
    he gets into a grump!

    He's secure in his masculinity,
    so he's not threatened by a dominant personality.
    He's attracted to women who come off assertively,
    and since he can't make a decision for himself
    it works out perfectly
       ...at least theoretically.

    He's supportive of your sarcastic angstful poetry,
    but, even so, he just won't find it very funny.
    He'll point out the spelling mistakes rather promptly,
    but not because on his ego you just went
       stompity,

          stompity,

             stompity.


     grin12

  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #147 - October 14, 2011, 09:17 PM

    To My Mother by Robert Louis Stevenson

    You too, my mother, read my rhymes
    For love of unforgotten times,
    And you may chance to hear once more
    The little feet along the floor.




    The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy

    I leant upon a coppice gate
          When Frost was spectre-grey,
    And Winter's dregs made desolate
          The weakening eye of day.
    The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
          Like strings of broken lyres,
    And all mankind that haunted nigh
          Had sought their household fires.

    The land's sharp features seemed to be
          The Century's corpse outleant,
    His crypt the cloudy canopy,
          The wind his death-lament.
    The ancient pulse of germ and birth
          Was shrunken hard and dry,
    And every spirit upon earth
          Seemed fervourless as I.

    At once a voice arose among
          The bleak twigs overhead
    In a full-hearted evensong
          Of joy illimited;
    An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
          In blast-beruffled plume,
    Had chosen thus to fling his soul
          Upon the growing gloom.

    So little cause for carolings
          Of such ecstatic sound
    Was written on terrestrial things
          Afar or nigh around,
    That I could think there trembled through
          His happy good-night air
    Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
          And I was unaware.
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #148 - November 14, 2011, 02:37 PM

    Do not stand at my grave and weep
    by Mary Elizabeth Frye

    Do not stand at my grave and weep;
    I am not there. I do not sleep.
    I am a thousand winds that blow.
    I am the diamond glints on snow.

    I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
    I am the gentle autumn rain.
    When you awaken in the morning's hush
    I am the swift uplifting rush

    Of quiet birds in circled flight.
    I am the soft stars that shine at night.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there. I did not die.
  • Re: Poetry time - Favourite poems by others
     Reply #149 - November 21, 2011, 07:27 AM

    A Litany for Survival
    by Audre Lorde


    For those of us who live at the shoreline
    standing upon the constant edges of decision
    crucial and alone
    for those of us who cannot indulge
    the passing dreams of choice
    who love in doorways coming and going
    in the hours between dawns
    looking inward and outward
    at once before and after
    seeking a now that can breed
    futures
    like bread in our children's mouths
    so their dreams will not reflect
    the death of ours:

    For those of us
    who were imprinted with fear
    like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
    learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
    for by this weapon
    this illusion of some safety to be found
    the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
    For all of us
    this instant and this triumph
    We were never meant to survive.

    And when the sun rises we are afraid
    it might not remain
    when the sun sets we are afraid
    it might not rise in the morning
    when our stomachs are full we are afraid
    of indigestion
    when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
    we may never eat again
    when we are loved we are afraid
    love will vanish
    when we are alone we are afraid
    love will never return
    and when we speak we are afraid
    our words will not be heard
    nor welcomed
    but when we are silent
    we are still afraid

    So it is better to speak
    remembering
    we were never meant to survive


    -Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn

    "Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused."
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