The 'Share Some Poetry' Thread

HunterandHunted

FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:

http://www.geocities.com/~bblair/sip15_title.htm

You might enjoy this, then!

Cheers Fins - 'Ballad of Another Ophelia' - ol' D.H forgot all about that one...love it!

FinsburyParkCarrots

Bumpa-dumpalous.

'Cuckoo Song'

Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nu-
Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteth after lomb,
Lhouth after calve cu;
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,
Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:
Ne swike thu naver nu;
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,
Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!

-- Anon (13th century)

Ms. Haiku

FinsburyParkCarrots wrote:

Bumpa-dumpalous.

'Cuckoo Song'

Sumer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweth sed, and bloweth med,
And springth the wude nu-
Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteth after lomb,
Lhouth after calve cu;
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,
Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:
Ne swike thu naver nu;
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,
Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!

-- Anon (13th century)

Kindof reminds me of Penny Brown Penny.

reeferchief

Adam's Complaint
Denise Levertov


Some people,
no matter what you give them,
still want the moon.

The bread,
the salt,
white meat and dark,
still hungry.

The marriage bed
and the cradle,
still empty arms.

You give them land,
their own earth under their feet,
still they take to the roads.

And water: dig them the deepest well,
still it's not deep enough
to drink the moon from.

____________________________


We are the music-makers.
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample a kingdom down.

We in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

A. W. E. O'Shaughnessy

even flow?

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch
You really are a heel,
You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch,
You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch,
Your heart's an empty hole,
Your brain is full of spiders, you have garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch,
I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch,
You have termites in your smile,
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch,
Given a choice between the two of you I'd take the seasick crocodile!

You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch,
You're the king of sinful sots,
You're a heart of dead tomato washed with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch,
You're a three decker sauerkrauten toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!

You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch,
With a nauseous (super not?),
You're a crooked dirty jockey and you drive a crooked horse, Mr. Grinch,
Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful
assortment of rubbish imaginable mangled up in tangled up knots!

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch,
You're a nasty wasty skunk,
Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch,
The three words that best describe you are, and I quote,
"Stink, stank, stunk

Holey Ghost

Boom The Cat wrote:

There's some great work flying around these parts, no doubt about that, you are all very talented, So keep up the good work

But I was thinking, you are all into poetry, and you must have got your inpiration from somewhere, so why not post some of your favorite poems, mabye some good poetry websites, mabye you wanna reccomend a poet.

Whatever it is, post it here and express yourself!

I'd say that The Boss, Bruce Springsteen, and his very loyal faithful fans have had the biggest influence and confluence on my poetry writing, especially of the love and erotic kind. I could post all of Bruce's poems (which he so geniusly turned into songs, but they're all over the net already.

Thanks Bruce! for the inspiration!

FinsburyParkCarrots

Ms. Haiku wrote:

Kindof reminds me of Penny Brown Penny.

Yes! "Verteth" means "farts", though. No farts in Yeatsian romanticism:

I whispered, "I am too young,"
And then, "I am old enough;"
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.

"Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair."
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love.

Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.


WB Yeats

Kovo

I Did Not Die
Do not stand at my grave and forever 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’s 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 forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

Melinda Sue Pacho

Bu2

(Because Gregory Corso's "Marriage" is too long to type):

Danse Russe

If when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,--
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt around my head
and singing softly to myself:
"I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!"
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,--

Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?

- William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

Ms. Haiku

It looked like a clump of small dusty nettles
Growing wild at the gable of the house
Beyond where we dumped our refuse and old bottles:
Unverdant ever, almost beneath notice.

But, to be fair, it also spelled promise
And newness in the back yard of our life
As if something callow yet tenacious
Sauntered in green alleys and grew rife.

The snip of scissor blades, the light of Sunday
Mornings when the mint was cut and loved:
My last things will be first things slipping from me.
Yet let all things go free that have survived.

Let the smells of mint go heady and defenceless
Like inmates liberated in that yard.
Like the disregarded ones we turned against
Because we'd failed them by our disregard.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Ms. Haiku wrote:

It looked like a clump of small dusty nettles
Growing wild at the gable of the house
Beyond where we dumped our refuse and old bottles:
Unverdant ever, almost beneath notice.

But, to be fair, it also spelled promise
And newness in the back yard of our life
As if something callow yet tenacious
Sauntered in green alleys and grew rife.

The snip of scissor blades, the light of Sunday
Mornings when the mint was cut and loved:
My last things will be first things slipping from me.
Yet let all things go free that have survived.

Let the smells of mint go heady and defenceless
Like inmates liberated in that yard.
Like the disregarded ones we turned against
Because we'd failed them by our disregard.

I love Heaney's work!

Ms. Haiku

Imagine you wake up
with a second chance: The blue jay
hawks his pretty wares
and the oak still stands, spreading
glorious shade. If you don't look back,

the future never happens.
How good to rise in sunlight,
in the prodigal smell of biscuits-
eggs and sausage on the grill.
The whole sky is yours

to write on, blown open
to a blank page. Come on,
shake a leg! You'll never know
who's down there, frying those eggs,
if you don't get up and see.

Ms. Haiku

Chiyo-ni


touching
the fishing line-
the summer moon

Jamal

My favourite poets atm are you guys ...
sounds korny, I know, but maybe it's because you guys seem closer to me than any poet in any book. (interactivity tends to have that effect )

I mostly read Dutch poetry and Latin poetry and filosofy mostly ... so I'm not sure if you guys would have any benefit from me naming some stuff

FinsburyParkCarrots

Who built Thebes of the seven gates?
In the books you will find the names of kings.
Did the kings haul up the lumps of rock?
And Babylon, many times demolished
Who raised it up so many times? In what houses
of gold-glittering Lima did the builders live?
Where, the evening that the Wall of China was finished
Did the masons go? Great Rome
Is full of triumphal arches. Who erected them? Over whom
Did the Caesars triumph? Had Byzantium, much praised in song
Only palaces for its inhabitants? Even in fabled Atlantis
The night the ocean engulfed it
The drowning still bawled for their slaves.

The young Alexander conquered India.
Was he alone?
Caesar beat the Gauls.
Did he not have even a cook with him?

Philip of Spain wept when his armada
Went down. Was he the only one to weep?
Frederick the Second won the Seven Year's War. Who
Else won it?

Every page a victory.
Who cooked the feast for the victors?
Every ten years a great man?
Who paid the bill?

So many reports.
So many questions.

Bertolt Brecht, in Poems 1913- 1956, London: Methuen 1979.

Ms. Haiku

"What a huge snowflake!"
But as I spoke my hot breath
Made it disappear.

Ms. Haiku

Just how many nights,
despite my endless pleading,
have you refused me?
But to surrender my hope
is more painful than waiting.

Ms. Haiku

I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit
of my power-the path before me was closed, that provisions
were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent
obscurity.

But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old
words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from
the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is
revealed with its wonders.

Boom The Cat

So, has anyone got any good poetry sites for me to scope out, I'm really into philisophical poetry.

Ms. Haiku

Boom The Cat wrote:

So, has anyone got any good poetry sites for me to scope out, I'm really into philisophical poetry.

I don't know sites, but if you have an example of philosphical poetry that you like, then maybe I could direct you to an author that might interest you.