BS: National Poetry Day 07/10

Subject: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 07:32 AM

As it's National Poetry day tomorrow (7th October), what's your favourite poem and why?

I got force fed poetry at school so didn't like it for a long time... until I discovered that there were other poems that didn't go on for 8 pages or have dead true loves in it. My English class were given an assignment. We had to learn a poem of our own choice and recite it. In a class of 28 girls, 27 chose 'The Unquiet Grave' by Brookes and 1 chose Blakes 'Tyger, tyger'. Guess who that one was!

Les Barker has since taken over as my favourite poet - his serious stuff is grossly underrated here in the UK.

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Amos
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 09:45 AM

Lovely to have National Poetry Day -- it offers a break from all that regional and personal poetry we read the rest of the year.

A

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Georgiansilver
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 09:55 AM

My Favourite is from the "Moody Blues" "Threshold of a Dream" LP...very old like me eh?? it goes:-
When the White Eagle of the North is flying overhead
And the Browns, reds and golds of Autumn, lie in the gutter, dead.
Remember then the Summer birds with wings of fire flaying,
Come to witness Springs new hope, born of leaves decaying.
As new life will come from death, love will come at leisure,
Love of Love, Love of life and giving without measure,
Gives in return the wondrous yearn, of a promise almost seen.
Live hand in hand and together we'll stand,
On the Threshold of a Dream.

Best wishes.

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Rapparee
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 09:58 AM

I understand this is Little Hawk's favorite poem. Full of bathos and totally heart-retching!

LITTLE LIBBIE
by The Sweet Singer of Michigan

One more little spirit to Heaven has flown,
      To dwell in that mansion above,
Where dear little angels, together roam,
      In God's everlasting love.

One little flower has withered and died,
      A bud near ready to bloom,
Its life on earth is marked with pride;
      Oh, sad it should die so soon.

Sweet little Libbie, that precious flower
      Was a pride in her parents' home,
They miss their little girl every hour,
      Those friends that are left to mourn.

Her sweet silvery voice no more is heard
      In the home where she once roamed;
Her place is vacant around the hearth,
      Where her friends are mourning lone.

They are mourning the loss of a little girl,
      With black eyes and auburn hair,
She was a treasure to them in this world,
      This beautiful child so fair.

One morning in April, a short time ago,
      Libbie was active and gay;
Her Saviour called her, she had to go,
      E're the close of that pleasant day.

While eating dinner, this dear little child
      Was choked on a piece of beef.
Doctors came, tried their skill awhile,
      But none could give relief.

She was ten years of age, I am told,
      And in school stood very high.
Her little form now the earth enfolds,
      In her embrace it must ever lie.

Her friends and schoolmates will not forget
      Little Libbie that is no more;
She is waiting on the shining step,
      To welcome home friends once more.

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Amos
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 10:12 AM

Dear God, Rapaire, are you and Little Hawk now going to escalate this sort of perversion? Can't you find some other forum, or use PMs or email or handwritten letters oin rag-paper, to do this? It is SO depressing!!!

A

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Amergin
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 10:14 AM

I like this stanza:

While eating dinner, this dear little child
      Was choked on a piece of beef.
Doctors came, tried their skill awhile,
      But none could give relief.

rofl

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Morticalia
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 10:53 PM

the best poem ever is Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came by Robert Browning. And the books it spawned, by Stephen King... phenomenal... ... I recently got to see the largest collection of his artifacts at Baylor U, btw.. very nice. here's a linky to the poem, it's very good. ... That, and the highwayman by alfred noyes.

The Highwayman

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Peace
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 10:55 PM

Jaysus!

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Bobert
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 11:24 PM

Ye friends to truth, yw statesmen who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay
Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand
Between a spendid and happy land

Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore
And shouting folly hails them from the shore
Hoeards even beyond the miser's wish abound
And rich men flock from all the world around....

...Yet count our gains: this wealth is but a name
That leaves our usefull products still the same
Not so the loss: the man of wealth and pride
Takes up a space that many poor supplied...

...While scourged by famine from the smiling land
The mornful peasant leads his humble band
And whilr he sinks without one arm to save
The country blooms- a garden and a grave

These are just a few verserse from a poem entitled "The Deserted Villiage" by Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774) and written a century before Karl Marx's "Communist Manifesto"... I believe that Karl read this poem.... The entire poem is pages and pages and a must read for anyone who is struggling with the politics and situations of our times... Seems there has always been plenty of Dick Cheney's to go around...

Bobert

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Amos
Date: 06 Oct 04 - 11:51 PM

Indeed.

Maybe this National Poetry thing is a bad idea--perhaps the nature of the beast is to provide intimately memorable language to the soul in private quiet, where all the world's noises cannot go.

A

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 12:41 AM

I'm beginning to wish I hadn't bothered with this.

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Mudlark
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 01:56 AM

Wish you hadn't bothered!?! Please say it isn't so!
I've just started a poetry class and am anxious to give it a go
I'm learning that it's in to break

a thought, by making a new stanza
Despite the fact that doing so
Is an obfuscating bonanza

Cheerfulness is out of style
And rhyming can't be found
The only poetry that's worth writing now
Sounds like that of Ezra Ounce

Hoppy Poetry Day!
(2 wks ago I couldn't even spell Poit, and now I are one!)

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 01:58 AM

Did no one ever learn any happy poems?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
Oh your teeth are extra white,
That's cos you use Ultra Bright!

LTS

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: beardedbruce
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 02:49 AM

ok, Liz...


Ballad (26)

I thank my muse for her beauty
That she shares in the night.
Can I let my desires run free
That I might hold her tight?

Her eyes shame stars, that cannot shine
With half the light of hers.
How can I give my muse a sign
Of what that sparkle stirs?

Those lips call out to me, to pull
My own to her command.
She has the power to make dream full
Of what my hopes demand.

I see in face what I desire,
Sweet vision of delight:
This image of her dreams require
To keep my hopes in sight.

I long to stroke her hair, and feel
Soft touch, against my skin.
Yet, should I dare to hopes reveal,
When dreams should not begin?

I cannot claim muse for my own,
And all hopes of love miss:
Might I pray that my words have shown
Enough, to earn one kiss?

02 Sept 2003

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: GUEST,skipy
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 05:13 AM

The Law of the Jungle
(From The Jungle Book)

Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the Wolf is a Hunter -- go forth and get food of thine own.
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle -- the Tiger, the Panther, and Bear.
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken -- it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,
Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.
If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,
Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;
Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.
The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;
And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will;
But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.
Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim
Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.
Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim
One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.
Cave-Right is the right of the Father -- to hunt by himself for his own:
He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.
Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,
In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of your Head Wolf is Law.
Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is -- Obey!

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Amos
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 09:55 AM

Thanks, Skipy!! Been many a year since I Kippled.

A

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: GUEST,amergin
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 01:14 PM

Originally posted in my New folkie Thread:

To My Daughter

In the dawning of the world
I dialed the phone
To see if your life dawned as well
Oh how I yearned to watch you
And welcome you into this world
And hold you rocking in my arms
And sing to you.
I still desire to hold you
And softly whispper songs into your ear.
Although I was not there
I know you felt my love
I know you saw me there
Standing beside your lovely mother
As you came into the world as a Caesar
A shining empress, bathed in Heaven's light
The time will come, my beautiful daughter,
When we shall meet in person, not in spirit
And I will hold you to my breast
And teach you my magic: love, poetry, and song.

nt

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Micca
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 01:48 PM

Or you Could try this, it is better recited aloud for the wonderful alliteration Lepanto by G.K. Chesterton

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Blissfully Ignorant
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 05:03 PM

I have an excellent anthology called 'Children of Albion- poetry of the underground in Britian' It's really good throughout, my favourite is Dave Cunliffe. Every so often, i feel compelled to scribble down my own derangd thoughts...some things should just never see the light of day! However, i'm going to inflict some on you because i am somewhat tipsier than is healthy and feeling a lot more brass-necked than i have right to. (evil laugh)

Vodka nights

vodka nights, with you and me
embraced reluctantly in your room
our passions realised at last we lie
wrapped in lust, guilt, and fear of discovery
and rapt with newfound sexual glory

you were always one for talk, and i for action-
and now, wholly departed from sobriety
we are experimentring, testing,
just where our boundaries lie-
willingly abondoning your rules,
you are suddenly demonic,
with an angels smile

vodka nights, and cold hard mornings
as the dawn approaches heavy with repentance
we fall apart and lie apart and wish back the night-
the darkness hides a thousand sins, my love,
even if those sins are imagined,
and the light comes like an omen,
tinged red with judgement and condemnation-
but in these vodka nights we are inflamed
and oblivious of sanction

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Once Famous
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 05:47 PM

He who writes on shithouse walls
    Rolls his shit in little balls
He who reads these words of wit
    Eats those little balls of shit.

First read by me in a tavern/whorehouse in Terra Haute, Indiana circa 1968 and seen many times since all across America.

Subject: RE: BS: National Poetry Day 07/10
From: Liz the Squeak
Date: 07 Oct 04 - 11:38 PM

Ah such erudition......

That's the Mudcat I know and love!

LTS