Poetry

[TheGirlOnFire]

Thought we should have a thread about poetry.

I love poems. Sometimes you need background information, sometimes the words just make you fall in love with it, sometimes its makes you think, laugh and cry.

Poetry is beautiful

Here is one of my fave poets and poem

Its about Shakespeare wife Anne Hathaway, it starts with a line from his will, people thought this is cruel of Shakespeare but Duffy twist it that the reason he left her the second best bed had a deeper meaning. It is from Anne Hathaway point of view

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’
(from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights I dreamed he’d written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love –
I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head
as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carol Ann Duffy

 

[( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]

Jesus ~ Tales of Mel

(Reading time: 20 seconds)

 

[Sif]

Thought we should have a thread about poetry.

I love poems. Sometimes you need background information, sometimes the words just make you fall in love with it, sometimes its makes you think, laugh and cry.

Poetry is beautiful

Here is one of my fave poets and poem

Its about Shakespeare wife Anne Hathaway, it starts with a line from his will, people thought this is cruel of Shakespeare but Duffy twist it that the reason he left her the second best bed had a deeper meaning. It is from Anne Hathaway point of view

Anne Hathaway

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’
(from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights I dreamed he’d written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love –
I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head
as he held me upon that next best bed.

Carol Ann Duffy

Some of my favorite poems are the epic poems such as The Kalevala, Dante's Divine Comedy and The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun. I also enjoy the shorter poems on the Poetic Edda and many of Tolkien's poems and songs in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

Here is one of my favorites by Tolkien:

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door

 

[Ada Lovelace]

What a lovely thread idea, and a lovely poem.

This is one of my favorites:
That crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,

Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.

No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea.'
- William Butler Yeats

 

[Ada Lovelace]

This is an original poem I wrote in high school and have on my profile page here:

When I was a child
I hunted every orchard
For a bit of fallen skylark-song.
I thought trills came from the throat
In ribbons and beads of color.
My earnest heart was tortured
To find a wisp of music
Or the shining dust of a note.

Afterward I thought
Of happiness like a skylark-song,
A dazzling fragment of life
To be discovered or missed;
Something more than itself -
The strangeness under a word-song,
A rainbow to lie in my palm,
Enchantment to tie at my wrist.

 

[TheGirlOnFire]

@Stanfordella i love your poem

 

[Servant68]

I enjoy a good poem.

But I am more familiar with song lyrics, which I believe are the same thing, really. They are words that are conveying an emotion or scene which the listener, or reader, should be able to experience or appreciate on some level.

The Eagles had some beautiful and poignant lyrics.

Desperado became my anthem when I was 20yrs old and it remains so...

Desperado
Why don't you come to your senses
You been out ridin' fences
For so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
But I know that you've got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow

Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
She'll beat you
If she's able
The queen of hearts
Is always your best bet

Now it seems to me some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones
That you can't get

Desperado
Oh you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger
They're drivin' you home

Freedom, oh freedom
That's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walkin'
Through this world all alone

Don't your feet get cold in the winter time
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time
From the day

You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feelin' goes away

Desperado
Why don't you come to your senses
Come down from your fences
Open the gate

It may be rainin'
But there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you
You better let somebody love you
Before it's too late

 

[James of Arc]

I just wrote this poem.

Hickory dickory doc
The mouse ran up the clock.
I shot it at one when I pulled my gun
Now the mouse knows what it's like to be shot


Kind of makes me tear up when I read it.

 

[Tone]

 

[bèlla]

 

[alsughasoughaiuyfygh]

.

 

[Ada Lovelace]

On frosty nights the breath assumes a shape,
A visibility which at the most
Is frailer than a shadow, less than a ghost,
And so intangible no scales, no tape
Can weigh or measure it, no hazel rod
Divine its source. The frosty air alone
Can X-ray that which animates a bone -
Can film a fleeting silhouette of God.

How strange - that substance immaterial
As breath, uncertain as a wind-blown wick,
Should yet be God, be life, be miracle
Of lamp in flesh; be lovely quick
Warm flame, or on a night of stars and frost
Be wings across the eyes before it’s lost

 

[alsughasoughaiuyfygh]

.

 

[Go Braves]

Y'all are talented!

 

[Tone]

DESCENDANT

I'm still chasing figments

Of a tree ever purging

Storm shattered skin

Churning dry ash and cold

Space nourishes this aching

Rooted and growing old

Worn and battered

Bruised deeply within


Joined together in a fluidity of flavor

Swirled up unto wholly new savors

Of being others as you and me

Grasping with hands of promise

Our nostalgic ways will forever

Flow into warm currents of reality


When all is said and done

And this life drones on

Draining every drop of hope

I imagine gleaming pools

Of an untapped source

In the deep stillness I reach

Until my thirst is quenched

There I'm gone, billowing on

We'll be cloudborne before long

 

[Tone]

I changed the last line from "I will" to "we'll"...it's more fitting...

 

[Tone]

 

[Tone]

 

[alsughasoughaiuyfygh]

.

 

[Jay Sea]

THURSDAY THOUGHTS
I walked along with briefcase swing
along, along to the station.
There she walked
just up ahead,
shaped oh so jolly.......
a small round woman.

As I passed her by I said “G’d day”
An “Uh” she said, with such a look,
with such a look,
that shut out day;
yet held the night within.

That jolly shape
a tough shelled nut.......
And within .......within......
a soul full bursting for release
or a shrivelled thing
so small, so heavy
like a black black hole
where nothing comes forth
but every hurt is fast drawn in.

Should you per chance pass her by
say “G’d day” and perhaps “God bless.”
that the warmth of the light
may enter in where only darkness dwells.

In Love
Jay