Author Topic: The Poetry thread  (Read 5296 times)

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firetotheworks

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #50 on: Tuesday 6 July 2010, 06:25:36 AM »
If you do X, Y, Z,
Bob's you're Uncle.



If - Rudyard Kipling.

Offline Pilko

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #51 on: Wednesday 7 July 2010, 11:43:53 PM »
Usually hate really archaic, biblical poets but this one by Christina Rossetti (one of her less mainsteam ones) is good.



Out of the church she followed them
With a lofty step and mien:
His bride was like a village maid,
Maude Clare was like a queen.

“Son Thomas, ” his lady mother said,
With smiles, almost with tears:
“May Nell and you but live as true
As we have done for years;

“Your father thirty years ago
Had just your tale to tell;
But he was not so pale as you,
Nor I so pale as Nell.”

My lord was pale with inward strife,
And Nell was pale with pride;
My lord gazed long on pale Maude Clare
Or ever he kissed the bride.

“Lo, I have brought my gift, my lord,
Have brought my gift, ” she said:
To bless the hearth, to bless the board,
To bless the marriage-bed.

“Here's my half of the golden chain
You wore about your neck,
That day we waded ankle-deep
For lilies in the beck:

“Here's my half of the faded leaves
We plucked from the budding bough,
With feet amongst the lily leaves, -
The lilies are budding now.”

He strove to match her scorn with scorn,
He faltered in his place:
“Lady, ” he said, - “Maude Clare, ” he said, -
“Maude Clare, ” – and hid his face.

She turn'd to Nell: “My Lady Nell,
I have a gift for you;
Though, were it fruit, the blooms were gone,
Or, were it flowers, the dew.

“Take my share of a fickle heart,
Mine of a paltry love:
Take it or leave it as you will,
I wash my hands thereof.”

“And what you leave, ” said Nell, “I'll take,
And what you spurn, I'll wear;
For he's my lord for better and worse,
And him I love Maude Clare.

“Yea, though you're taller by the head,
More wise and much more fair:
I'll love him till he loves me best,
Me best of all Maude Clare.
"Does a struggling salesman start turning up on a bicycle? No, he turns up in a newer car. Perception." - David Brent

Offline GG

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #52 on: Wednesday 7 July 2010, 11:46:32 PM »
How is Rossetti obscure?
Spoiler
[close]

Offline Pilko

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #53 on: Wednesday 7 July 2010, 11:47:19 PM »
Meant to say it was one of Rossetti's more obscure ones opposed to her being obscure as a poet. Shall reword.
"Does a struggling salesman start turning up on a bicycle? No, he turns up in a newer car. Perception." - David Brent

Offline Parky

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #54 on: Thursday 8 July 2010, 08:33:54 AM »
This is one of my efforts. For my daughter when I was away for a couple of months and missing her.

Hannah.

…..Because there are moments when I see
You must begin to know
That the distance is nothing
And there is nothing you need to know.
That you hold my light
Like the untameable song
Of the busker in the underground
No matter where he has gone.

That sometimes the silence is broken in your room
the concerned chatter of a scolding voice.
Holding close those important child matters..
…of where to place the horse,
in case she should run, without her foal,
to the other edge of the carpet-
-the other side of your world.

That I miss you holding onto my trouser leg
Your eyes up and engaged - anew
…I wish I had the answers..
Those that you might hold true.
Your long line of animals,
-wait at some imaginary ark,
-and we both know they can wait forever.

Parky


Offline AyeDubbleYoo

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  • Ian W
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #55 on: Thursday 8 July 2010, 04:41:21 PM »
This was one of my favourites as a kid:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

- John Masefield

Online Super Duper Branko Strupar

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  • Leeds Leeds Leeds
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #56 on: Thursday 8 July 2010, 05:39:32 PM »
On Having Given Up Cricket
Michael Laskey

I shall play cricket in heaven
in return for the afternoons
gladly given to the other
pleasure of others' leisure.

I shall walk, without haste, to the wicket
and nod to the angels kitted
in their whites waiting to discern
the kind of batspirit I am.

And one stroke in heaven, one dream
of a cover drive will redeem
every meeting of bat
and ball I've done without.

And I'll bowl too, come on to bowl
leg-breaks with such control
of flight and slight changes of pace
that one over will efface

the faint regret I now feel.
But best of all I shall field:
alert in the heavenly deep,
beyond the boundary of sleep.
And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.

Offline DJ_NUFC

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #57 on: Thursday 8 July 2010, 10:10:58 PM »
On Having Given Up Cricket
Michael Laskey

I shall play cricket in heaven
in return for the afternoons
gladly given to the other
pleasure of others' leisure.

I shall walk, without haste, to the wicket
and nod to the angels kitted
in their whites waiting to discern
the kind of batspirit I am.

And one stroke in heaven, one dream
of a cover drive will redeem
every meeting of bat
and ball I've done without.

And I'll bowl too, come on to bowl
leg-breaks with such control
of flight and slight changes of pace
that one over will efface

the faint regret I now feel.
But best of all I shall field:
alert in the heavenly deep,
beyond the boundary of sleep.

Fan-bloody-tastic. I'm gonna send it to my fellow cricket-playin' buddies.

Offline ross magoo

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #58 on: Thursday 8 July 2010, 11:14:37 PM »
The Tay Bridge Disaster by Willam McGonagall - widely known as the worst poet who ever lived.  I love the last verse.

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
I'm bored of Hampden anyway

Offline Pilko

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #59 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 01:46:34 PM »
Too long to post it up, but read Goblin Market from my Rossetti collection today and it is brilliant.

http://theotherpages.org/poems/roset01.html
"Does a struggling salesman start turning up on a bicycle? No, he turns up in a newer car. Perception." - David Brent

Offline OzzieMandias

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #60 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 02:55:53 PM »
There was an old man from Japan
Whose verses would never scan
When asked why it was
He said, "it's because
I always try to get as many words into the last line as I possibly can."

Online Super Duper Branko Strupar

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  • Leeds Leeds Leeds
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #61 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 03:03:08 PM »
very good :clap:
And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make.

Offline AyeDubbleYoo

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  • Ian W
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #62 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 04:45:33 PM »
One of my favourite poets of all time.

Pablo Neruda - Die Slowly

He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace,
who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience, dies slowly.

He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones «is” rather than a bundle of emotions,
the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound
in the face of mistakes and feelings, dies slowly.

He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy,
who is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives,
die slowly.

He who does not travel, who does not read,
who does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself,
she who does not find grace in herself,
dies slowly.

He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.

He or she who abandon a project before starting it, who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know, he or she who don't reply when they are asked something they do know,
die slowly.

Let's try and avoid death in small doses,
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.

Only a burning patience will lead
to the attainment of a splendid happiness.

----

This one is epic, I love it.

Offline DJ_NUFC

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #63 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 05:01:48 PM »
Some great sports poems in here, especially the footie and cricket ones:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jul/10/sporting-poems-carol-ann-duffy

MrIrrelevant

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #64 on: Tuesday 13 July 2010, 05:38:19 PM »
Always loved Invictus by William Ernest Henley and it gave me goosebumps when Morgan Freeman reads it in the movie, I also have the last two lines tattooed on my side:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


And another favourite being The Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Tennyson although I'll not post the full text up since it's quite long.

Offline madras

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #65 on: Wednesday 13 October 2010, 12:19:57 AM »





and for those soprano fans out there you may recognise this from one episodes closing credits....

Bullshitters misrepresent themselves to their audience not as liars do, that is, by deliberately making false claims about what is true. In fact, bullshit need not be untrue at all.

Rather, bullshitters seek to convey a certain impression of themselves without being concerned about whether anything at all is true. They quietly change the rules governing their end of the conversation so that claims about truth and falsity are irrelevant.

Offline Ronaldo

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  • Is that you, Mustard?
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #66 on: Wednesday 13 October 2010, 12:27:09 AM »
Aye, episode 2 of Season 6, part 2.

Studied it in English Lit, too. And I currently live in the city that the poem is about.

Offline ElDiablo

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #67 on: Wednesday 13 October 2010, 01:04:54 AM »
My favourite is probably Dulce Et Decorum Est.

I also like London by Blake.

I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
 
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear. 
 
How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.
 
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born Infant’s tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Offline catmag

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  • Cat Lady
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #68 on: Friday 15 October 2010, 05:38:36 AM »
Too long to post it up, but read Goblin Market from my Rossetti collection today and it is brilliant.

http://theotherpages.org/poems/roset01.html

I love Christina Rossetti. I think my favourite is 'Remember' which has been a comfort to me in the past..

Remember

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.


Offline bulivye

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #69 on: Friday 15 October 2010, 07:22:28 PM »
Too long to post it up, but read Goblin Market from my Rossetti collection today and it is brilliant.

http://theotherpages.org/poems/roset01.html

I love Christina Rossetti. I think my favourite is 'Remember' which has been a comfort to me in the past..

Remember

REMEMBER me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.



really good that, Cat 
altogether elsewhere vast
herds of reindeer move across
miles and miles of golden moss
silently and very fast

Offline DJ_NUFC

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #70 on: Wednesday 11 June 2014, 10:58:29 PM »
For Mike.

Offline Belfast Mags

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #71 on: Wednesday 11 June 2014, 10:59:57 PM »
Howay man, we have f***ing poetry thread as well  :lol:

This I did not know
Quote from: Mike
Am I really coming out of this thread the biggest asshole again?
:snod:

Offline DJ_NUFC

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #72 on: Wednesday 11 June 2014, 11:01:40 PM »
N-O has all the pieces you need to furnish your interior life.

It's like Sports Direct, but for the inward-looking.

Offline Mike

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Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #73 on: Wednesday 11 June 2014, 11:01:41 PM »
For Mike.

:aww:

Is there a "Baby's first poetry book" that you could suggest?

Offline DJ_NUFC

  • General Member
Re: The Poetry thread
« Reply #74 on: Wednesday 11 June 2014, 11:02:59 PM »
For Mike.

:aww:

Is there a "Baby's first poetry book" that you could suggest?

Nah, go through this thread, most of the classics are in here. Some really incredible stuff.

And read Prufrock. One must read Prufrock. By TS Eliot. Someone posted it in one of the earlier pages.